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My Poem

by Philip F De Pinto



Is a bow legged chair
A fish gasping for air
Is an un-rushed hour
A hail shower
In Spring
A heavy metal guitar string
To pick with a rose petal
My poem is the top of a garbage pail to be used as shield
A twig in lieu of a lance
Is not one to care a buck
About its appearance
Enough to tuck
In its guttural utterance

My poem is L.A. smog
Fighting for survival
Contra clean air edicts
A confused groundhog
Digging a hole
On a billiard table
Coming out the side pocket
To announce the late arrival

My poem is unshaven
As a skid row bum
Chum to toss the sharks - a raven
Sick with saying nevermore
My poem is Terpsichore
Looking for a dance floor

My poem is a surfer who thinks its a hermit
Scouring neath the waves
Looking for the perfect cave
My poem is not so brave
As the other shoe that fell
All the way down to hell
The one the lady happened to be
Living in at the time
Much in need of aloe Vera
My poem is Primavera
Riding to the shore on a scallop shell
And not that lanky breed of dog
With crane like neck which permits it
To lick its blue balls with its raspy tongue
Enough to turn them bright pink
My poem would say a hell of a lot more
Save its run out of ink

02/20/2019

Posted on 02/20/2019
Copyright © 2020 Philip F De Pinto

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/20/19 at 06:31 PM

Woot! A hoot of a poem that lets me dive into everything from a hail shower, a ground hog hole (dug it ;)), waltz through smog to its other side (LOVED the raven "sick with saying nevermore") where I am immersed in under water, underground verse. Oh, ink, no sting here, just a marvelous string of consciousness that delights.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/21/19 at 02:53 AM

I agree with Kristina. Brilliant stuff Phlip. Evocative and more so entertaining from start to finish.

Posted by Glenn Currier on 02/25/19 at 03:02 PM

Ah! Reading this poem and your work in general is devouring a spicy delicious bowl of crawfish etoufee, chili, or a rich goulash concoction to satisfy a hungry hollow in the heart. It expresses in an inexpressibly beautiful way how I often feel about my own limping attempts at this art. Phil, your poem is an invitation to open the mind and let flow the deep river of creativity hiding there. Thanks my poetfriend.

Posted by Kris Mara on 10/26/19 at 01:11 PM

Yes, brilliant as always. I'm always amazed at your wordplay and meaning unfolding down the page...each line leading so cleverly into the next punch...fantastic to read you once more...

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