hard poetry
is the best,
for the work of you,
it does request,
works your hardest best,
needing you to lilt each chosen letter
with a slow cooked, thoughtful tenderness
the writer wrote but a single draft,
but lifetime in the making,
it took,
as each word was,
both chewed and vine tasted,
over and over,
avoiding the arrogance of hasty egotism
hard poetry when read
reveals the authored heart
between each word space,
marks of the beats of a thundering mountain,
that upon it's peak,
lives and dies a temple's altar for sacrifice,
from where the odor of burnt,
parse rises and colors each verse
to heaven ascending,
not once,
but thrice
and long long after it is consumed,
its scented smoke returns,
wafted from nostrils as a hit
upon the brain
hard to write,
hard to read,
more than concentration requisite,
an open mind that mines the text,
laboriously hard,
as was such intended
cheap are the easy-quick rhymes,
that fall like flakes,
an endless sky
that rains upon us like a
plague of "made in" knockoff fakes
looks good, goes down easy,
but gone tasteless like sugared icing on a stale cake,
but
hard poetry lingers for days
or forever,
and it asks you back,
without ever asking
write hard,
read the hard,
for these poems are the real shards
of human hands that sweated while love making,
serving you their best works from deepest within,
torn out and then smooth potter-sculpted
hard poetry
hard to find,
veins in the deep earth
that you, they do not find,
you must drill core shafts to
ascertain their existence
packaged not in gift wrapped clothing,
that is torn off fast,
over the cheap plastic gift it covers,
that the promise of forever disappoints
and does not garner any interest
as fast as the day after Christmas arrives
hard poetry,
rewarded to the seekers
who read it with self same love and care,
the poet employed,
to wrench it from his soul,
it's elimination,
the pains of a labored. childbirth
do not depreciate what you appreciate
by giving up your honor easy,
love only the one you are with,
the you will keep
ever
like what you love,
like but the ones
you must addictively return to,
wait for them with patience eager,
lament but do not tarry over the
discarded chaff,
while you wait for the
hard poetry's loving grasp
roses are violet,
violets are rose,
don't care if you live in states red or blue,
but you drown discouraged
from such nursery poems
proposed and tendered
with a " look at me" gloss
ad nauseum
effort to find the hard ones,
the ones you wish to emulate,
the ones that will justify you
as they grow you up into
being better than your dreams
-~~~
Oct 11, 2015
4:23 am
really sick and very tired of.cheap writes that are pedestal hailed
by those who revel in simplicity,
hide behind easy rhymes and
nonsensical metaphors
that sound so good
and taste so bad,
even if they last for but seconds on our tongues
cheap writing cheapens the writer and discourages the.reader.
~~~
poems are work; it takes work to like them or dislike them. Put the work in, demonstrate the care, and we will be more than friends, becoming caring~poets~in~arms.
a flawless poem
if such there were,
will always be,
the next one
my poor soul,
my rag tag heart
has no censor,
so careless, reckless,
as if words were but
frivolous treasures,
easy spent, easy get
if only, how I wish
could harvest my best,
with golden cutlery knife excise
the single flawless poem,
that I know in my possess
then only,
to lay down this hand so weary
from cupping tears,
satisfied at long last,
so much so,
that as my casket lowered,
my hands in repose companioned,
clutching his best, easing the rest,
a paper record placed in his primary
to join his ash,,
keep his faith companioned,
his flawless poem,
at long last
