Poets—sprinkle Words - Poem by Mark Heathcote
Poets—sprinkle words onto paper
That in turn becomes glass sandpaper
Optician's lenses, they're freely given here
Readers choose what grade they want.
Is it to be abrasive or persuasive?
Interrogative or simple, non-invasive
As readers, we'll ask ourselves.
What will it even be denotive of?
What will rub, off?
Whatever eventuality, we want polish.
We want black or white glistening onyx
That's all our readers want, let us be honest…
We might like,
But we don't want clairvoyants.
Prophecy, is all well and good
But it isn't sexy or joyous.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You