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I Am a Poem


I am a poem.
A poem that says it needs to be famous,
but busies itself with mundane work.
A poem that sometimes acts as if it were on stage,
but usually cowers in the bedroom closet.
A poem that defies gravity like a trapeze artist swinging
through space, only to find no place to land.
A poem that wants to attend the School of Extraordinary Feats,
but after graduating would not know how to apply what
it has learned to ordinary life.
Who would read a poem like that?

Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More The Whirligig #319
 
More Writers’ Pantry #71 at Poets and Storytellers United

 

When I Forgot My Morning Smile


When I forgot my morning smile, the fish reminded me
That every river wants to rush headlong into the sea.
When blackbirds carried messages beyond the barnyard fence,
Five famous people came to see—they paid but seven pence.
If shuffling gets me to my goal, I’ll shuffle day and night,
But barefoot I will have to go—my boots are much too tight!
Remember on the day I die: No wailing is allowed!
Now promise me that buttonholes will decorate my shroud.

 
Poem © 2021 by Magical Mystical Teacher