under the old ways, young men
were sent to learn wisdom
at the feet of the masters
Now, they rush in among
the bulrushes, brutally clubbing
as they bull through to flush wisdom
upwards, where it can be caught in nets,
collected in jostling, squawking bustles
and sold at a price from open market
kiosks that crowd the square. These
young men are paid, for what they do
But what was the cost?
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.