Lamentations of an Unacknowledged Poet

it’s like talking with pigeons I muse

as I sit on the front step watching

they strut and they coo and flirt with each other

and pretend that I’m not here at all

 

for what do I struggle in the calm of the night

pulling ideas out of scotch mist and aether

I might as well talk to pigeons all day

I’d be calmer and richer and nicer

 

 

Copyright May 2017

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s