Without poetry, we'd all
be chained to fences of time.
locked in,
torn apart,
played with by the
cosmic dance.
Don't get me wrong,
the poems can't
cure cancer, or heal the
lame dog's leg.
But, they might give
the whores hope, and the
hobos a home.
Poetry tricks the mind
into seeing things,
like woolfhounds with
bagpipes playing an
Irish jig, far away from
the ferryman and his ride
across the river.
Without poetry, about now,
my skull
would be a home for beetles
and worms, turning
ever so slowly into
dust.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 20th, 2025 09:35
- Comment from author about the poem: My books, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems and It's Just a Hop, Skip, and Jump to the Madhouse, are available on Amazon.com www.thomaswcase.com
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 39
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
A statement that I can agree with my friend and well stated to in true poetic form
Thanks.
Aww, in the last verse - why do they (some - lol) say that about me, if I write poetry of not?! Heehee.
lol
And everyone has their very own taste in what is poetry. Well said dear Thomas. 🌹
Thank you, sweet Teddy.
Bukowski but also Poe. This confronts the grit and grime in existence as well as the imminent approach of non-existence. This, my friend, is an immediate fave on many levels! 🌹👏
Thank you.
You are welcome
Well said.
ty
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