Saturday, March 31, 2007

#342: March 31, 2007

I'm giving all my poems to the poor.
I hope someone will put the things to use:
level a table, patch a wooden floor,
boil 'em for soup or press them down for juice;

Perhaps they'd stop a draft or silence squeaks
on staircases; or maybe when it rains
they'd catch the drips under your ceiling leaks,
where once they caught the drips from poets' brains;

Cut paper dolls or fold them into hats,
or add them to a casserole for spice;
wipe oil from dipsticks, fix bicycle flats--
whatever purpose for which they'll suffice;

I offer them for free to those that need them,
so long as no one ever tries to read them!

2 comments:

pistol pete said...

ahh,
to breathe the fresh air of a poem
'tis a feeling like none other
blogging without poetry
is like, well...like...
like, you know.
after all, you're a poet.

Serena Joy said...

If, on the other hand, you were to bequeath them to me, I'd keep them all together and read them.:)