Embarrassing poetry happens again
Un- pre- pondered, full of dread
Will it fit once all is spilled
Into the cracks of another head?
Some message, sure
That might clarify the blur
Or a copout excuse- the freedom to see
The message could spring from anybody
But next year for certain, Love.
Some kind of incantation
A spell for peace...
JM
2 comments:
I knew I couldn't be the first to spell poems like homes. Now that I've seen the writing of a dead guy and some live writers who shared the word, I want to hide my ego. Love all you zillions!
chopready, you are a good pote. i like your style.
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