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Gardener (Free verse) by lastobelus

I work now with small green things and brilliant colours. The smell of the earth is deeply ingrained in the ridges of my flesh and the sky touches down the brim of my hat. On a rainy day I sit with a paper and go out later to feel I’m being watered. I have a bright yellow oilskin and the rain runs cold off my forehead and down my nose. I have a rosebush named Candy and one named Sue and a wheelbarrow. I have a long, long time to watch the wild things grow.

zodiac 7-Feb-04/10:52 AM
If poetry were only a true expression of the poet's feelings, then the following would not technically be a poem:

THE POET WAITS FOR INSPIRATION -

Dowsing-rod,
snake,
quarter-pound burrito -
Names which I've given my own libido.

Sand-trap,
horse-face,
lady-in-furs -
Names which I've secretly given hers.




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