Sunday, January 22, 2012

The Mother of Whistler and Poets by Bob Atkinson

The Mother of Whistler and Poets

(c) 2012 Bob Atkinson

she sat there not knowing
she'd be the main attraction
in the struggle for dominance
of production over passion

those with credentials
that sat upon the pot
rarely defecated
in their erudite response

to the charge they had been given
progression of the form
learned definitions
written poorly in those stones

she sat there posing smugly
broadening appeal in her game
taunting generations of producers
to feed upon meal's grains

this poet feels her comfort
lives within her realm
watching those with letters
pushed behind their names

produce that which is abhorrent
and doesn't fit the need
of those wishing emotional content
be contained in poetry's refrains

content that has broad meaning
and pushes us to find
that soul we hide within our hearts
in the back-side of our minds

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