Mister Joe, would-be muse,
jangles loose change in his pocket.
Memories jogged and garnered as he walks.
Mister Joe in contemplation,
washes, rinses and tumble dries, what pops into his head,
in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and rhymes.
Each wash-up, extracted, pegged, and hung up to dry,
to taunt and flap jangles for him,
for his readers, and strangers who happen to pass on by.
Mister Joe, would-be muse,
casts charms, jangles and sparkles,
to jog in the minds of his readers.
His words cast nets to trawl up
memories and serendipity dips,
in the minds of his readers
with word play, puzzles and twists.
The catch netted, is prodded, poked, shaken and stirred,
to inspire twinkles, sparkles, hums, aahaa's, grunts,
and perchance, nods of appreciation and delight.
Mister Joe's catch of memories,
once jarred and jangled,
are returned to reader with care.
For the reader to add jangles to their pockets,
and gems to their lockets and charm bracelets.
Both Mister Joe, would-be muse, and his reader,
now walk with jangles
echoing within.
-
Author:
John Richard Anderson (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 30th, 2021 00:02
- Comment from author about the poem: With apologizes to Jerry Jeff Walker.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments4
its true, even after I've finished reading
the melodic jangles of your choice wording
resonate - with me and linger:
'and his reader,
now walk with jangles
echoing within.'
thanks for sharing, dear poet
Thanks for that. It is what I'm about. The rumbling within.
i will give this poem a peach...
cracking stuff John.
Yeah, thanks, Cheers
Good write, F.F.
Tricks of the trade.
Best Wishes, Cheers
Thanks for that John.
Had to come back and read again later (I'm slow sometimes) but once I got the way it was hanging , it jangled very nicely in my head.
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