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.

but aren't they all random?

Tuesday, February 02, 2016

"Cross your fingers"

If the refrigerator light
stays on in the dark, and if
just through the door,
there's a national park, and if
deep in the center, there's a sacred grove -

if a tree falls by chance on a crock of gold,

Will a rainbow break out, arc and hold in the sky
as a kind of alarm?
Will there be an outcry
to shock us from our beds?

So we rush to the door
- throw it open, grab hold
of the bottle we know
is the coldest and best
for emergencies, now
- and pour.

We have found

that in trouble and doubt,
we have had to learn how.
And at least, we have tried.
Who can sleep anymore?
Since the luck has run out.
Since we looked out, and saw
we've let every tree
fall.

Did the first make a sound?

But how could it?
It had already died, after all
after all,

after all.

"It was not meant to be
after all,"

she lied; closed the book

by its cover,
her eyes on the world, her heart
on the end of the story,

and sighed.

No comments: