Kurt Ravidas Poet Rhyme

The Finger

I am a finger pointing at the Moon
among my own kind. I scratch the head,
I wag at naughty kids, perhaps, in June
they’ll put a ring on one of us instead
of just being friends, I’m always stained with ink,
once I’ve been bitten by a mad raccoon,
I pick the nose, but more important thing
is that the finger points at the Moon.

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Richard Lamoureux July 3, 2019 at 5:26 PM Delightful to read. You made me think of the many places my fingers have traveled.

Caren Krutsinger April 17, 2019 at 12:53 AM "You are always stained with ink, but I am always running around with neon paint on my tips." Signed: Another finger who knows your pain and avidly points at the moon. Kurt Ravidas April 17, 2019 at 7:31 AM Neon paint? You must be an artist. An artist and a poet in one person. This is great. Thank you, Caren)

Gershon Wolf April 16, 2019 at 8:13 PM Fascinating! Reminiscent of the modern art of the second half of the twentieth century: It can be analyzed so many different ways. Nicely done. :) gw Kurt Ravidas April 17, 2019 at 7:27 AM This is my kinda argument for miracles) Thank you very much, Wolf.