You Me and Poetry

Thu, 12/29/2016 - 15:42 -- RandA

In becoming one


You may eat, sleep and breathe poets:

Robert Frost for breakfast,

Keats in your coffee.

Spend your morning looking at your home

Through the eyes of Charles Brice.


You may ride

on the shoulders of giants,

Hold on to Woolf’s dark curls

Like some angel

Or demon, whispering in her ear

And dropping stones in her pockets


Or you may prefer to shun these works

For fear of poetic plagiarism

Or worse, linguistic imitation


And let your words flow freely

From an untainted imagination

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