My Poetry Soup Recipe
From crispy candied apples, sticky sweets,
Derive the base by which my lines accrue;
For when pure-love reduced by coal depletes,
Then train of thought does simmer heavy rue.
As though embittered soup deducted cream:
Increasing one but makes another lack -
My fossil engine still beholden steam;
Thereby, poetic stew remains on track.
But, if I’m chef then who’s the engineer?
Smart poets pluck the vine whose fruit is loose;
As such, sweet compliments, ex-wife austere,
For all my wounds and her divine caboose -
Because, while pain and sadness garnish me,
Her tracks through me conduct my recipe.
1/31/2017
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
