Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Poemwriter - by Bob Atkinson

(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

tell me when this thing evolves
into a large idea in long wood halls
tell me how we presented fate
that overdone flowing gate

tell me when should signs light up
though my feelings lie in twisted muck
some show forever complex forms
while talking over ways and norms

find me ever in my head
pressing that which holds grand plans
take this overblown reprieve
to drive toward fuller sensual extremes

prior to this errant fluctuation
my signs pointed toward gyration
counting all within this scope
as here or there or castle roped

come to me you senseless dope
carry all you wished and hoped
trade measure for that measured hand
then pick up skirts and join the band

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