Life Or Poetry
I was never born a poet
But a pauper standing on a pulpit
Penning words in spring tide dings
Ritzy scribbling like trundling rings
Talons of my feet
Seething grounds I scratch and leet
Feathers I preen and wag
Over my scruff I rip and gag
On rivers and wells I soak and dip
Shimming on reflections I gobble or sip
Over hills and cliffs I hover and skip
Your face I slip over my lip
"Poetry brought life to a dreamer as a penner
But why is life more important than poetry as a winner?"
(Prosebite)
Copyright © Clifford Villalon | Year Posted 2023
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