2009 Follies/Resolutions
I've been practicing lethargy
and intend to keep on
till I get it right.
Then, perhaps I can move on
to ennui.
Ennui can all dance in the streets.
I do have a little phrase wafting its way
from ear to ear
like a lost soul,
plaintively mewing.
"Would I not make a nice base
for a cello concerto?
A nice chicken broth
for the orchestral stew?"
Well, it's possible,
and tomorrow,
perhaps,
I will enter the museyroom
and confront the that harmonial journey;
And we all know what Shakespeare said
about tomorrow
(and he said it three times, too).
Doug Palmer January 2009
3 comments:
What Crap!
How can you call it poetry when there is no unrelenting spectre of death?
No dead lost love.
No mention of ever, evermore, or nevermore.
Go back to welding junk car parts together.
............E.A. Poo
On the contrary, Poo, it is not "crap", it is pure Palmer. His unique perspective on this thing we call life varies from a veil of tears to exoltation of its art. I dug it.
.......Eddy Emerald
I agree with you Eddy, and disagree with you, Edgar, for Doug is the best kind of poet, the unconscious kind. He is never self conscious because he is too busy being self-depracating. I am proud to have included over 30 of his poems on FFTR. Some day he will gather them together. After that, who knows?
Glenn
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