18
Stoic Faces
(c)2013 Bob
Atkinson
eighteen
stoic faces
faced four
who had come
to read the
erudite refrains
of poets both
dead and gone
readings were
in earnest spoken
for respect
for some who had
garnered from
the establishment
accolades, awards, well sanctioned
yes, eighteen
stoic faces
faced four
who read so good
those
meaningless diatribes
of useless linguistic words
significance
became not evident
for
similes provided here
metaphors vaguely crafted caused
me not them to revere
this didn't
change my attitude
my demeanor
didn't rise
waiting for an end to it
was my only
real desire
so I couldn't
clap and whistle
and be
smiling in my face
that would
not have been sincere
became just a little
bit ashamed
whistle I
didn't do at all
felt not much real emotion
gave a polite
nod to those speaking
headed quickly out the door
save me from disjointed thoughts
can't those people see the truth
senseless disorganization
does not good poetry produce
of those thoughts not poetry
I firmly do believe
the fireplace requires cellulose
for bright flames to feed
headed quickly out the door
save me from disjointed thoughts
can't those people see the truth
senseless disorganization
does not good poetry produce
of those thoughts not poetry
I firmly do believe
the fireplace requires cellulose
for bright flames to feed
listless
words written poorly
carried my imagination not
was frozen in my dreamy state
rusted any worthwhile thoughts
carried my imagination not
was frozen in my dreamy state
rusted any worthwhile thoughts
next week
went to Vegas
to see the
eagle band
and watch as
pure emotion
rocked that
audience grand
ten thousand
had paid apiece
a couple
hundred bucks
to see those
wordly masters
like Henley,
Frey and such
they told of
the situation
which emotion
played upon
a woman's
real life choices
why she'd
become despondent
ten thousand
cheered upon
recognition
of great words
displayed
while coddled with sounds
soft guitars
and drums beat purrs
I thought
"now here lies real poetry"
not those
prissy kind of words
that speak
only of the unimportant
with wispy mindless verbs
some lock
credentials grand
for that
which moves us not
and laugh at
the suggestion
that song is
our greatest art
me, I have a vision
that we shall all enjoy
songs we've grown up with
as emotional literal tomes
