Category Archives: Poetry

Included in this are things from other people about poetry, including their OWN poetry.

“To a Fellow Politician in Washington, July 6th, 2017”

Vex not Thou the Poet's Mind

I remember you once asked,

How should I best serve the people?”

What I’ll tell you will sound hard

but is naturally and fearfully easy.

First, you wanna work at night

when the dazzling stars inspire smooth rhetoric.

In private, mind you. Public needs require secret newsfeeds.

Be sure you have the right tools and the right spot.

What you design in the dark should sound like this:

Each American should have their own place of rest,

fashioned with our lightly taxed cloth

pillows full as a soft father’s hands,

blankets tight as a woman’s grip.

His bed should be framed by the sturdiest wood,

fitting all and only his substance;

teach him to be an individual

and chase his own American Dream,

with no helping hand but yours.

They may wonder about random stuff like

the grave, or the coffin, or what happens at night,

but you can…

View original post 106 more words

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The “Rejection Response” Poem

Reviews (my blog).

Wants (my blog).

A Memorandum on Dreams (my blog).

Source (his blog): The “Rejection Response” Poem

“The Candle”

Soul candle. (Not really related).

Vex not Thou the Poet's Mind

“Does that boy know
of the flame that never dies?”
wondered the pastor.

With his godly, holy, perfectly
staunch voice, he told the boy
“My son, do not light the candle,
lest your house burn down
and you sit in ashes,
being abandoned by your flame.”

The boy,
trusting the pastor,
who always had his house lit righteously,
sat in his house,
no candle lit,
maybe happy.

Yet one day,
someone else,
unexpectedly,
lit the candle;

and the light of that candle
warmed his home
with a dreamy warmth;
oh how it glowed!
The only thing he
seemed to see
was how it lit
his furnishings.
He even thought it could
give light to the soul.

But there came a time
when the flame did rage,
just like the pastor said.
His house did burn down,
enveloped by fiery zeal;
the boy sat in ash,
fearfully wondering
if he had…

View original post 68 more words

“Fire Dance”

Vex not Thou the Poet's Mind

Holy Fire!
Hear my cry!
The world is too wet with sentiment!

The tears of the unjust
have flooded the flower fields
to where characters can’t grow!
The moral stem of them
will not shoot and bud,
for the foggy clouds of indecision
keep the sunlight from raising examples.

As I wave my fingers,
wave your solar flares,
Ancient Judge!
Let fireballs lick the swamps
and wetlands where the people
lazily wallow in the mire.
Singe their skin, making them run
in repentance.

Holy Fire!
Hear my cry!
Fling your ember meteors,
smashing the buildings to the earth!
For mankind now erects many Babels!

Starving children,
traitorous kinsmen,
liars that lead,
crimes aquitted.
Oh Holy Fire!
Why is there no recompense?
Their souls are soaked with apathy.

See how I run in circles,
stamping my feet in the mud,
for a time that once was,
for the days when the…

View original post 90 more words

“Modern Scholarship”

Vex not Thou the Poet's Mind

Ambiguity
is a freedom farmer’s best friend;

it is a steel tractor
that hums like
a singular chorus of
multi cultural
multi voices.

One day,
The farmer’s fields were littered
by legalistic
traditionalistic
western
weeds.

So blades plowed through the crops,
severing chains and superstitions,
a smooth hair cut
that made one feel
the natural breeze
much better.

The farmer turned the tractor’s key
to shut off its engine.

It didn’t stop.

No.
It kept plowing.

It crossed the mind’s boundaries,
scything and scything,
till it reached the farmer’s
foundation,
property,
family,

and when it leveled the people,
one by one,
heads fell on the ground,
blood fertilized the corn.

Horrified,
the farmer asked his good intentions
why.
But he never got a response.

There is no centre
afterall.

Ambiguity
is a freedom farmer’s best friend.
A nightmare machine.

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“Superwomen”

Vex not Thou the Poet's Mind

When I was a little boy,
The lake scared me; I’d watch
The Stevens slosh and splash out
Under the Georgia sun,
But would never flap with them.
The water was too deep for my feet,
Too big for my chubby belly.

Until, floating in shallow depths over time,
A woman with broad, brunette hair
Said: “The Deep’s fun! Just float with me!”
I grasped this one who seemed to have such control,
Such grace in the lake,
and we drifted away.
I learned that,
Though the water is large enough, infinite it seems,
One must swim anyway.
A fish is no fish unless it swims.

But the lake was cruel once.
Its dirty waves swallowed my aunt,
And I suddenly feared the thing I feared
Looking at my family in Georgia.
A moment of suspenseful silence.

Then, the water rose in a fury,
A swirling cyclone of James,
And…

View original post 300 more words

“Trouble in the Mushroom Kingdom”

Vex not Thou the Poet's Mind

It is easy to fade in the wall,
Because my huge head,
A round white ball with red spots,
Thinks over and over and over
About how troubled the world is,
How King Bowser reigns with fiery flame.

Yet how sweet it is to see others move
Freely though the castle,
Taking risks and searching for stars.
When a man is shut in a dead town,
His head reeling in years of fear and failure,
How wonderful, how encouraging
the sudden leap of faith,
The yells of laughter:
‘Ya! Woohoo! Yipppeeeeee!’

Though my best speech is in text boxes,
I have often wished I could give you more
Than just advice on the stage;
I wish I could give you free stars,
And make your life easier.

Please forgive me for the times
When I exploded like a Bomb-omb
Or suddenly crashed on you like a Whomp.
My oversized head…

View original post 241 more words