April Is Free-verse Poetry Month

Poetry Month

What to do:

Assume a poem could be found
on unlikely tongues
on ice cream cones
and lick it. Place

words on feathers that
tickle the fickle. Let

the loop of the river
splash blue ink.

Storm out of yourself
a thunder whisper in a flash
in a moment of
passion flooding
momentously drizzling drops
of salty inklings
up a creek for a beaver

Trees fall
heard. Who’s
there, here
who calls
to be right

in a pickle. Read
me with syrup
under a maple
over a river
with a pickle
resuming a crunch

— Douglas Gilbert
Books by Douglas Gilbert


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