Saturday, April 10, 2010


For the next three Saturdays, you’re in for a HUGE treat. I’m going to step aside to give you a chance to read poems from other people--poets who are also dear friends of mine. I hope you enjoy their work as much as I do.

This first ditty (untitled)came to me shortly after it was mentioned in my blog that centering and rhyming was a thing of the past.

So rhyming is out
She said with a shout
And centering is too
She cried out boo hoo.

Just let the words fly
Who cares about why
Or what we are saying
Duck quacks or mule braying.

This is poetry modern
The new art form that we can publish and put out in the world in any old fashion we choose, be it
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOr long if we prefer.
Get it?
Got it
Want it?


Written by: Al F.


“BROWN Edward. Reg. No. 12320. Rank: Private - Royal Dublin Fusilier 7th Batt. Died home 10th October, 1914. Born: Templemore, Co. Tipperary.”

Da', come home, you've lain too long,
Beneath that cold green turf,
My champion, my dear bold man,
My loss in Ireland's earth.
Leave other heroes fill the graves
For King or England's glory,
You are the one, who sings my song,
Whose heartbeat is my story.

Da', come back, the music's fled
This sepulcher, our home.
Why don't you beat your big bass drum?
Why leave me dance alone?
Jack's fiddle hangs by Jimmy's flute
In silent testimony,
And Ned's too young to understand.
Da', come home and love me.

Written by: YMR

Thanks YMR and Al F. You are both stars in my book.
Love ya,

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