It's too early to prite woetry,
It's only three a.m.
I haven't had my coffee yet,
I can't sit in the den.
I'm sitting on the toilet,
Where the light is awful dim.
I can't wake my husband ,
He's feeding the cows at five again.
I'm sitting priting woetry,
I'll be pretty near blind by then.
01-24-2016
Categories:
near blind, humor, marriage,
Form: Cowboy Poetry
Who has heard the voice?
Who knows the verse,
on a quiet Sunday that waits
silently? No one has seen.
Who has learned
of the champion from Detroit,
the laureate of America,
the subtle poet of history
pacing the halls of the black mind?
What has been the pride
of a near blind man,
who took the bus, and doesn’t drive
to work everyday,
but who saw life’s light?
Who has heard the voice?
No one has seen.
Who does not ignore
the poetry of the 1st laureate
of a culture versatile?
Robert Hayden.
Students might never see.
Categories:
near blind, art, black african american,
Form: Elegy