Language is operant bits that hit,
flip, mix to switch up modes
or reinforce by wink, hint, shove
or goose charged messages
along their course. Stand back
apaces, love. Just let it
mix in eye, and let
some truth emerge. Or
beauty, true. Or good. We mustn't
be too picky with what's served.
Except we must. For beauty is
the sensual flow of water in throat
so parched from deserts, unbeautified.
It's no cracked vase. It springs
of hope.
And good
is excellence, or bright
right-wronging difference,
and shame of each! We know
we don't
Live up to much. At least
The truth, we know, can teach
And if it won't, we'll school ourselves
beyond the reach of headmasters. As if
some sallow expertise could beach
the whales we are, with all the flukes
we stir.
Let's revel then. In language,
and make these tidy pieced-in words
commend! Before we recommend.
A proper order ladies, sirs.
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.
but aren't they all random?
Wednesday, February 24, 2021
coded vessel
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