I am made of flesh
and bone, the remains
of love diffused in blood
and memories of home
from another life I've never known -
and toads and snails, and bees, and stones,
and sugar and spice, and everything
else that was lying around
when they broke the mold. I tumbled out
soft, and half-deformed. The wax
wasn't even dry, I'm told.
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.