"Grace notes", I read, and it feels
similar when a piece of food is stuck
between my teeth, that word "grace",
a preacher's word to utter without
a second thought, like a baker puts
sugar atop a cake, or in a grill, without
looking, a tired worker pours ketchup
and mustard upon a hot dog. A poet
should have little to do with preacher's
words - a poem can be a sermon, I've
done many, but each one, read from
a rickety pulpit, was a bad one, written
to let out in words anger boiling inside.
Let 'grace' emerge itself, if it will,
unannounced, not declared.
Now, where are my toothpicks?
13.08.2024
Poem Poems Poetry Verse
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
Ei kommentteja:
Lähetä kommentti