Friday, October 3, 2014

The Poet's Sorrow - by Bob Atkinson

The Poet's Sorrow
(c)2014 Bob Atkinson
"... he is praised by all, read by a few, and soon forgotten ..." Oliver Goldsmith

to be read becomes the poet's dream
a fast approaching lovely stream
of sweetened insight or lamented dreams
this shining light of unlit streets

poetry on the face of time
begins a process circumscribed
into a mist filled night we find
that pen and paper of rhythm, rhyme

rhythm fills a void in heart
softly pressing as required by art
to sink gut into a pool
unfilled by this moment's attitude

reflexive as our lives become
standing still requires none,
no complexity of a wandering tongue
a simple brain of mushly dung

we mostly tread waters still
retreat to couch, no excess frills
trading worth for quietness
protesting loudly we've done our best

when this leisure fortifies
we click the vision, games of pride
and watch as those people there
score touchdowns, followed by prayer

no effort in this wasteful gruel
satisfies need for flying fooled
beyond sincere accomplishment
on coffee table poetry rests

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