A Poet's Chore
This next poem is the labor I feel as a poet at times because the message coming through me feels so intense and yet here I go again putting it into a world that has put the word "poetry" into a frame of ridiculousness and not worthy of an open ear. People forget, poetry is in most everything they do hold dear. It's in all of our songs, cards, nursery rhymes, and other eternal words easy to recall many years from now.
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A Poet's Chore
We are like the dinosaur No one sees us anymore Our pterodactyl metaphor You've but chosen to ignore Like victims of an unseen war You're hiding out behind a door But all the Gods are keeping score What was shall be as was before And all the poets apiece implore But peace cannot begin to roar While every dollar has its whore Slaves to scrub the Master's floor His pitcher full of souls to pour He's a greedy collecting connoisseur And so we grieve the lonely poor On their island from our shore.
Ciera S. Louise c. November 27, 2005 |