“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label Grandma. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Grandma. Show all posts
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Maxim Poetical
Grandma said
Always wear a bra
-even to bed.
She said,
Put liberal
amounts of lotion on
everywhere every day.
Grandpa advised
looking up every-
thing I did not know
how to use or say
Smile
Grandma warned,
those are the better lines
to make.
My heavy skin agrees
with these
ad(d)ages.
(This poem was inspired by Lorine Niedeckers' poem, '(A) Poet's Work')
Painting By Mohov Mihail (1819-1903) (Mohov Mihail) [Public domain, Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Gravitas
For every poem I put here, there are four more never shared, around six never written and twenty-seven partially thought out. For every word...

-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Someone said, the full moon looks larger in the city because of skyscrapers- which said nothing about people feeling smaller, more co...
-
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...