Glenn Bagshaw

Rookie (CANADA)

Words Are Birds- Or A Good Drink

Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

The fizzed-out flatness in single words
has 'tree' with two or three meanings in all;
but bunch terms up, absurdly, like birds
that soar to skies where 'rise' is less than 'fall'.
These flocks of words will then take off and fly
as they migrate to definitions, each its own-
Add words and wing the reach in each reply
as multiplied speech manifests all known.

From my dad's notes from fifty years ago:
'I see the light now fade from Hampton's farm
and shadow soaks the oak as you must flow
as love in me...' Great lines, like cops, disarm.
Words swell, then verse, bursts on stimulation:
talk, hiss, tell, pop- cork-out carbonation...

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Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 29, 2007

Poem Edited: Saturday, February 19, 2011