Your herbs and flowers
Keep out swine, dog and beast.
Poetry
Has this ever happened to anyone you know?
It’s never too late to help a poet in trouble. Reach out. Make contact. Save them from themselves.
Poetry is a controlled refinement of sobbing
Do you cry? Or weep? Or sob?
Thorough rebuke, all you proud poets
Write what is forbidden, please.
I am a thorn: beneath the nail
You get to choose for yourself.
It’s not you, it’s them
Who is to blame when words won’t behave?
The gift has already been given
What did Prometheus give to us all?
Gather from rills that run with honey
Shall we blame the writer for writer’s block?
