Bill Grace


This Thing Of Little Boxes - Poem by Bill Grace

On a morning when poetry whispers to me
The world does not automatically
Grant a blessing toward success
The new pen wanting testing
Demands a screw driver for release from box
And being released, though never used, rewards me
with a broken clip for thanks.
The screw driver box surrenders its piece
But protests with spewing anarchy.
On a morning when poetry whispers
This thing of little boxes can be a drag for me.

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Comments about This Thing Of Little Boxes by Bill Grace

  • (7/22/2007 10:57:00 PM)


    Very nice, Bill. I often visit there.
    Enjoyed this.

    Best,
    Herbert
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Poem Submitted: Sunday, July 22, 2007

Poem Edited: Wednesday, March 23, 2011


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