“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” – Leonard Cohen
The Worst Poetry Ever, I Do Admit
I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.
My morning visitor. — Photo by Pat Bean
The Raven
While I welcomed the morning cheerily
While I drank my coffee dearly
While I sat upon my balcony pondering
Over my daily list, wondering
There came a cawing, cawing
Tis’ a bird, I muttered smiling
Only this and nothing more
And it is August, I said and more
And it’s sunny on the desert floor
Now who is cawing outside my window
I know for certain it’s not Lenore
Because it is black and feathery
This it is and nothing more
I went for my camera
To capture an image for ever more
But alas I failed, as I was told
This device cannot record.
Would this bird too soon fly away?
Before I could retrieve the disk
From my computer inside the door
Only this and nothing more
Quickly I ran inside
And retrieved the tiny disk
That would make the camera work.
Black feathers still perched upon the roof
Waiting and cawing, cawing
Tis a raven, I said.
And nothing more.
Bean’s Pat: Travels and Trifles http://tinyurl.com/lsm93un Love the quote, and the trees
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