Analogues
to the current situation, in
dialogue a representation
of lifestyle, events, culture,
or generation. Poetry.
Recipes of all we have
constructed up until a
certain point of time.
Then left
to be remembered.
Or reconsidered.
04/25/2021 j.g.l.
April is Poetry Month
take a poem to lunch
Independent, a loner, or
part of a community.
Enabler, imbiber, victim
or survivor. How do you
identify?
Me, myself, or I.
She, them, or why? People.
I am human.
What are your pronouns?
Occupation or gender, by
country, religion or race;
it’s not all black and white.
Questioning or queer?
Who we are
is how we deal with
what happens every day.
It changes along the way.
Do you consider yourself
a consumer or a provider?
Be honest.
Painstaking label-making
gets complicated.
If you can fool others, are
you not then deceiving
yourself?
Who are you?
04/23/2021 j.g.l.
I come about my inadequacy
naturally. What I feel is like
nothing else. Honestly.
I am nobody. We all are.
Even when we are something
to someone else.
I am somebody. Like you?
04/22/2021 j.g.l.
I‘m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!
How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!
-Emily Dickinson
Too little time or
too much poetry,
can it not be
neither or both?
Are our dreary
days not better
measured by
stanzas or lines?
If any question
has a real answer
is it not easier
solved in a poem?
04/18/2021 j.g.l.
Nasty gossip
all told.
Damaging, unwarranted;
a fictitious account of an
exaggerated tale.
Vicious lies.
Who knows the message?
All that was said
all that you heard
from a friend of a friend.
I can only tell
how it feels
My
irreparable reputation,
the damage is done,
believe it or not.
04/13/2021 j.g.l.
Graffiti,
now, like poetry,
it means what
you want it to mean.
You might not notice.
Feeble dreams, then none at all.
Reckless. Restless, what
soothes your soul on nights
when darkness
boastfully intrude? Thoughts
expand and contract, you inhale
then exhale, though time
is rarely true. Or precise.
Neither comfort, or interlude,
as the mind wanders to places
you have never been
nor wish to return. Anxiety
or worry, how can you know?
Insomnia.
Isolation. Overreaction.
Contemplation. Will you read
or recite stanzas from your
puzzling past trying earnestly
to recreate placid images that
take you away from this
awakened state?
Poetry shows concisely
how others have suffered,
how they have healed.
Find rhythm or the rhyme.
Close your eyes, deeply
breathe, take stock of
the certain and the sublime.
Poetry knows.
You have been there before.
04/11/2021 j.g.l.
April is Poetry Month
all poetry all the time
right here
poetry every day