I MIGHT BE RIGHT

The heavens dropped me hard

Bump upon the asphalt, shard

Of broken beer bottle right into

My wrist

 

Yet somehow I wobbled then walked

Learnt to talk and gave up

Living for poetry, gave up

Loving for poetry

 

And to my surprise He gifted me

A lover of the highest order

And smaller people to occupy

My boredom, now living again

 

So I sit here, tapping at this tablet

Feeling my thoughts, alone amongst

The daily gathering

 

I am haughty and determined to

Press out further poetry from the

Great green grapes of this

Non-special space-time locale

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s