Oct 22, 2007


What worth, our words
when deeds stand tall
then seems our poetry
a plaything, small

yet find we here
ourselves among
our own selves' mirror true
words make us young

brave deed, indeed
to capture youth
with magic metaphor
transcend our truth

what worth, then words
those fair half-lies
must mirror what is seen
by loving eyes


Erica said...

Well...I thought it was nice. God love this blogosphere, it's where I get all my cultchah from. You, Jean, Eric and Elisson got the poetry thing covered for me. Jon Cox, you and my friend Ant sate my desire for some serious art. I got my Conservative Deadheads, the Blodgy Faulkner [dat's V-Man!], Technicalities Teresa and Dogette for hefty doses of snark...and then there's Hairboy, he of the Deep Thoughts.

As Jimmy Stewart, RIP, might say [or might have said], it really is a wonderful life!

[/feeling mushy...missing Helen]

Anonymous said...

.... awwwww, Erica..... I can hardly wait for you to do another Robert Service reading in a few days!...

.... excellent poem, Joan..... most excellent...


Erica said...

Another Robert Service reading? Hell, I never even did one, but I think I could wing it, with a practice recitation or two.

I'm thinking of going with the easy one, for starters, of the guy who was thrown in the oven, and had his arms and legs cut off...I just keep forgetting...that's Blasphemous Bill? Or Sam MacGee [sp?]?

The one that starts out, "There are strange things done in the Midnight Sun...," or something to that effect.

Three more days! Woooooo!

Michelle said...

Joan, simply wonderful.

I gain a better appreciation of you every day!

Joan of Argghh! said...

Whoa, thanks, Eric! High praise, indeed.

Thanks Michelle. You're catching on to this blogging thing pretty quick, yourself!

Jean said...

Erica puts me in the same clump as you, Eric and Elisson?? I am blushing!

I am also loving this poem!