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On The Job (Fuck Me): Shadorma

ON THE JOB (FUCK ME)

Poet’s job
To spark and nurture
Both free thought
And open
Emotion, even open
Doors to other realms

Mary Oliver: In Memoriam

MARY OLIVER: IN MEMORIAM

Flesh and bone may decay
Her words, all the thoughts
All the feelings they evoke
Shall remain to nourish us

Magician II

MAGICIAN II

In the poet’s words
Something unique is revealed
As universal

Wavingnweaving

WAVINGNWEAVING

Waving to weavers
While weaving while wondering
Why weave and why why
While weaving while wandering
Wondering, weaving, waving

~~~~~~~~~~~

This is dedicated to all readers who are also writers, and especially those who may be called – by themselves or by others – poets.

String Of Lights (30c)

STRING OF LIGHTS

Uniting
Poets illumine
Your dark night
Of the soul
Passing the torch down the years
Lightening the load

~~~~~~~~~~~

Shadorma November

Vincent’s Brother’s Brother

VINCENT’S BROTHER’S BROTHER

Are you also one
I wonder who are unknown
Until they are gone?

The Cuckoo

THE CUCKOO

Alarm bell rings out
Cuckoo in the nest!
Cuckoo in the nest!
Cuckoo in the nest!

Knowing onlookers
(Programmed so to do)
Pity these deaf parents
Puzzled yet obeisant

Watching their progeny
Thrown overboard
By this guzzling
Immigrant

No one though pities
The cuckoo’s offspring
Motherless, abandoned
Left to fend for itself

Still there’s always poetry
As there’re always poets
Who never quite fitted in
Left casting their pallid light

And treating Spell Check
As a servant rather than a god

Wedded To Verse

WEDDED TO VERSE

For better or for worse
A poet likes to lift
A stone to see what is
Going on under there

Poets

POETS

We’re not here to procreate
(Opposite directions)
Smile, wave as we pass
Speak our truth and be gone

For Even Poets Pass On (A Four By Six)

FOR EVEN POETS PASS ON

Time to bid you fare well.
Should I say “Rest in peace”?
No, for that’s not your style.
“Wrestle on and create!”

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