Friday, January 15, 2016

A Minimally Brave Poem



Rare poems brand you with boundless
strength to say the many grave things
they mean quickly, in an eyeblink.

A few poems will pulse and flow
and carry on their surviving dreams,
from the bitter snows near the brink.

And let's never forget
the bold little poems of ill-repute.

Braggarts -
ever unwilling to let you forget
events of that second bottle of wine,
her pink winter foax-fur coat on top
of your folded old leather shell
spoken in crude linguistic bravado
and the right brand
of bad metaphoric
choices...

Lesser poems often end like this:
A Secret - words that won't mesh,
three lines short of a stronger triplet.



~

4 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

I like this. It says much in a few words

eric1313 said...

That's what I'm trying toward. I fought the urge to add things all over this one.

eric1313 said...

There, really did a good treatment for this one. I like it.

Anonymous said...

Gosh, I had better catch up! Another good one! Sarag ,,,