Sunday, January 29, 2012

Bauble


A poem given, a gift

To cherish but not 
To gawk over, 

You stumblebum.

5 comments:

  1. Does "you" make me the bum that stumbles? In any case, this really trips off the tongue....

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  2. Youse guys sure know how to deflate a poet's ego trip. Next time, I'm "given" a jewel, I'll take it to a pawnbroker!

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  3. That strange hallucinated subjectivity that creeps over one when a poem seems to arrive as a private message...

    This wobbly old man tripped over a downtown curb in the dark last night, and now, uncomfortably swathed in bandages and icepacks, receives THIS.

    Ouch.

    And thank you very much! I shall never forget these verses.

    (Did not Samuel Johnson say, Nothing concentrates the mind so well as a deep bruising that's going to look worse in the morning?)

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  4. Tom,

    Cruisin' for a bruisin', eh? I hope it's nothing more serious than that and that these verses--with the help of the icepacks--alleviate the pain somewhat. Thank you for promising never to forget them.

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