Vernon Witmer Poet Rhyme

Notes About The Poem

Reel

Choose moment foiled 
Over moment gone or none.
Penance paid all bard alas anon.
Bars of boxcars rolling down 
Canals of clotted wax;
These are the facts 
As I know them to be; 
Sum total me.

Scratch barleycorn 
For earth and inch for truth.
All tiny, tiny words 
In huddled masses gathered,

Shouting to lexicons of legion 
To be heard;
Dismissed among the ignorant, 
Ravished by the mute.

Small signs a-stirred,  
Greater eye to bear.
Greens of noble painted 
On a dolly rode in blush. 

Gathered, huddled masses moaning, 
Leaders gone in rush.
Each laddered youth 
Hurled and hurtles trying;
Downward where were depths 
Of others dying.

Stalwart soldiers any age, 
Refrained of vigor, 
Each enabled page to what advance, 
Their worried families charge.

For some day one be stored 
In someone’s garage,
To this day or that,  
This club or bar 
Or water cooler chat,

Between the sips and drips 
And pressing, passing lips
Of death stood still.
A word of faded quill.

Sometimes times will reach 
Into each soul 
To wrench a tear;
Not so often fear, 
But poised and posited,
Twirling dance 
Of darkened hope. 
Spoke and spake 
And speak and leak and leave;
Never grieve for what it never was.

And huddled, muddled, 
Gathered masses weep and cheer.
Gasses bottled.   Grasses mottled.
Leopards changing spots.

Dots connected,  
Sinners unprotected;
Searched until their eyeballs bled
Yet could not see their own with same

That flicker once, until the flame be out.
Done by water cooler spout
And with the masses tiny, huddle now.

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