Eating Clams
Eating Clams
Should I go to my grave doing latest rave?
Or be a nice guy and myself do behave
And if writing poems is what it will be
They will be given to Poetry Soup for free.
Recently, returned to some of my old haunts
Which were made before the renaissance
Period of time when everything was changing
Reformation occurred and minds were re-arranging.
I always would know from the very start
Even though we may be many miles apart
There would be something about my writing style
Challenging you and putting your mind on trial.
On other side of hill grass often was greener
And could find me with all of my great demeanor
A poem desperately trying to write each day
Will send you to see what you have to say.
If you were one who called me a so and so
And my poems on you never started to grow
How was I to know that much later in life
I still would be married to my beautiful wife.
Next door neighbors both had hardly waited
Then together our anniversary celebrated
Read my poem drinking beer out of a cup
They calmly listened but kept clamming up.
Clams were of various sizes and steamed
while others were baked and cooked. Next
thing will be Clam Linguini. Wow!!!
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2014
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