Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Young Poet's


Want we all have they pray
that if the road is short they never take it
or if the tree's to high they do not shake it
till the leaves fall
around their lovely waist.

Bushes flout the painted colour when
the sky
reveals the pale face of the moon
and it's green eye.

When back and forth the cradle
rocks
and melodies are never what they seem
she said yes because of love
and he said no.

To the touch by finger tips around
the belly jar
that hangs beneath
the base of trees where violets grow
the value of shock is.

Caress the moon until it opens crest
each hill
until the eye gives into
breath that can not fall to any
that each young
poet reading this escaped.

Submitted: Wednesday, January 08, 2014
Edited: Thursday, January 09, 2014

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