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Finding Poetry

It doesn’t shine from the sun
It isn’t squeezed from an orange
or found in the swirl of a nautilus shell

I can’t order it off the menu
no matter how loud the tenors sing
opera on the piazza at sunset

It isn’t revealed in the crooked tilt
of Ripley’s Believe it or Not house
wished on a coin tossed in a fountain
or seen from the top of a ferris wheel

The stars shine dim
over Orlando sub-divisions
There is no theme park for poetry

I ask for directions
from a landscape worker
who doesn’t speak English
“Is there a rose garden nearby?”

I sing in the Jacuzzi
where the acoustics are good
and poetry doesn't utter a sound

When I go on vacation
poetry gets left behind
It won’t sleep in a strange bed
no matter how fluffy the pillows
No matter how fine the beach sand
verse stays buried

But the breeze stirs a voice
from poolside books
Flapping pages hint:
Come inside
Open here
Hold your face to the gold
Steep in the fiery magenta
that can only be seen
with eyes closed

Post Note: A work in progress. Still looking.

Comments

It will find you! I love the idea that poetry won't deal with strange pillows!

I am imagining you reading this at Spoken Word night :-)

I hope I can workshop it some with the Floyd Writer's Circle first.

I think you Found it!!! xo

I am glad you found it!

I am like Sandy. I loved the line 'poetry won't deal with strange pillows.' I think this one is great. The rose garden appealed to me too.

each of these things is poetry under a secret alias.

I think you found it. Poetry was biding it's time, lurking in corners of your mind till you got back to working on it? Great poem, makes me want to go to Florida.

poetry here at the fair this weekend- they would embrace that one !! sandy

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