Quack Quack

Folder: 
No Eyelids

 

The muse is awake

seducing potential poetry.

But my brain, lacking, quakes

and quacks instead,

attacking bits of bread with

beaks which can't even speak

beautifully enough,

nor carry a rose between teeth

as offering to the throne

of the good goddess.

Another poem to atone for time

in the miracle of a lie.

 

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J9thxciv's picture

I like the good natured

I like the good natured modesty of this poem, but I doubt your brain lacks anything.  It certainly has an abundance to verbal talent, as your poems obviously, but not ostentatiously, demonstrate.  A rose in the teeth is not nearly as good an offering to the Muse as this poem is; or any of yours. 


J9thxciv

[* /+/ ^]

allets's picture

Poetry as Atonement

now, that's a thought! :D