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F White Feb 1
You asked for this door.
One foot through the
Other trembling in the stars.

You can[not] have balance without halfway seeking defeat.

Stone's on the water now.

Float or sink.
Copyright fhw 2019
Tommy Randell Jan 12
Counting down the days
Til the new poem arrives
It's nearly ready for the page
But back there behind the eyes
Things are still changing
Shapes are being formed
Some rhymes rearranging
Some ideas being scorned

Is it a single or multiple birth?
I've tried counting the beats
The slow heart beats, alert
To clues in its embryonic sleep
But Poetry is notorious
When hiding its nature
And Poets impetuous
In the application of nurture

Nothing for it but to wait
Work on things more concrete?
Nothing for it but to state
I will love it, upbeat or offbeat
I will live with its moods
Put up with its tantrums
We may like to choose
But we Poets take what comes

(envoi)

Of course every poem is precious
Though this one sadly is not a prodigy
It is trying hard to impress but
Sadly it won't make the Anthology
The proverbial creator I maintain a neutrality
A post natal poet I remain unbowed
Though It does have uniqueness and originality
So I suppose I can be parentally proud

— The End —