April Is Poetry Month

April Is Poetry Month

What to do when
Shakespeare is dead, and

they say poetry is too, and
all my moribund metaphors are dead
just because she ran off to
a festival without me, because
I am not very exciting, so maybe
in contemplation, I could

assume a poem could be found
on unlikely charming tongues
on ice cream cones, and I
could lick it. Place

words on feathers that
tickle the fickle. Let me

make the loop of the river
spell
splash blue ink
for me. Hello,
for you many
I’d say

storm out of yourself, you yourself
a thunder whisper in a flash
in your moment of
passion flooding
momentously drizzling drops
of salty inklings, fresh
up a creek for a beaver
in his safe house.

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

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

many picnics
in many words

— Douglas Gilbert

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3 thoughts on “April Is Poetry Month

  1. I like the new poem. Yeah, it’s poetry month and I haven’t even written a single poem. I like the stormy talk, river and beaver. There were a bunch of festivals going on yesterday. But I waited too late to make plans and then didn’t want to go to any of them alone so I just sat here with my dog again. Kind of aggravating when I only have one night when my son isn’t here and I can just be myself instead of being the mom-version of me. Oh well…I guess I need to get back on the dating site so I’m not sitting around alone. It’d be nice to do fun things like festivals and picnics…

    1. Thanks. My poetry month give away in Central Park didn’t work too well. When I said, “Did you know that April is Poetry Month — would you like a free poetry book,” some people were positively hostile. I wound up climbing up rocks and leaving copies at the top were I know people like to go. It was very depressing. Maybe a few people will think it’s a big discovery when they find a treasure in the middle of nowhere. (well it’s not actually nowhere because I see people climbing the rocks and ‘mountains’ in Central Park all the time… A few people were happy to get it, but they don’t really look like natural born gossips (well yeah I’m happy that they will enjoy it, but they never seem to tell anyone. I’m the most popular secret poet ever I suppose…)

      1. hmmm…people are crazy these days, I can’t believe some were rude when you offered them poetry. Maybe a library or a poetry reading would be a good place to offer samples of your poems. Well I think you’re the best secret poet ever. I’ll be your secret poet-sidekick…(giggling)

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