THE EXHALING POET 2020
“A short poem just before you go
You are not going anywhere I know
But just the same if you have the time
And buddy if you could spare a dime?”
….
He sold his poems in limited editions
For an extra dollar he gave renditions
But people ran and hid their head
From the unmasked man
Who created the dread
….
It takes breath in the form of words
To exhale my sonatas in poetic muse
But people said: No! No!”
His lyrical poems they did refuse
….
Until one day he no longer stood
On that street corner unfurling his hood
Gone to ground – isolated off
The man with no mask
Had been taken to task
By a local priest
Who told him to cease
Pontificating his poems and rhyme
With the unappreciative public – it didn’t chime
….
So he stayed away and wrote some more
Pasting them to his chimney breast
A grand wallpaper they made
….
Until one day hundreds dispensing accolades
Stormed his house
Banging on window and door
Crying through masks: “More more more!”
“We will pay any price more than before”
“Too late” he cried back “they are all stuck down”
“My genius is gone to the wall” he said with a frown
….
The moral of this tale is:
When wearing your mask
Don’t take breathing poets to task
Rather, If you want another poem
Just simply ask
