Poems Everywhere; Another Poem Ruined By A Parachute; Troublemakers With Pens by Richard LeDue






Poems Everywhere


You may not know it,

but you're a walking potential poem.

All you need to do is double park

beside a poet, and they'll turn a page

into wordy rage, ready to run

you over, except you'll never read it

because you still hate Shakespeare

from high school, remember waiting for Yeats

to make better sense to them, while the worms

in Biology class recited an elegy,

using only silence and formaldehyde,

yet even that went unnoticed

as you practised a refrain for adulthood

by complaining

about how the school no longer provided

latex gloves for dissections.


Another Poem Ruined By a Parachute


Like footprints leading to a cliff,

one day there'll be no more

dangerous poems, but only a blue sky

expecting to be part of another metaphor,

as if our homemade god has nothing better to do

than watch how far a wrong step

can fall, and the remaining poets will gladly write

something, but not before removing their shoes,

worried of tracking mud

all over their linoleum souls.


Troublemakers With Pens


There are times a blank page is a puddle,

waiting to be jumped in,

fresh snow, looking for an angel,

even if lost mittens left behind,

along with Sunday school finger painted Jesus,

or an empty jar in need of light

from fireflies kept hostage,

but there are other moments,

when it's most like a barren wall

in a corner, where one stands

after doing something

they should have known better.

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