Jan Hansen Poet ABC

a poet at the supermarket

A poet at the supermarket

At the supermarket, yes, we have one near Faro. I met a poet.

The mall is nicely built and has two bell towers.

From time to time, they chime to remind us why we are

Here, not sit on a bench in its courtyard looking up to

The sky is seeing mind-blowing cumulus configurations.

The poet I met had a white beard, wore an old black suit,

a tie with red wine spots on, a black beret that whiffed

Of garlic, I think. You could see that it wasn’t really there.

His eyes scanning the ground, he bent down, picking up.

Half-smoked butts of cigarettes. Ok, not so rich

So what? Haven’t you heard of a poor poet before?

They are not all idle sons of the rich, and with a university.

Degrees in literature. A notebook in the side pocket and

Two pencils in his breast pocket; so he was a poet, ok.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment