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Open Poetry #37
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XOx Uriah xOX
Senior Member
since 2006-02-11
Posts 1403
Virginia

0 posted 2006-02-15 12:22 PM



From age ripened wine...to old stale beer...
You've been my friend, through wealth and want.
But, alas !   I fear the end is near;
My trusted confidant.
For what it takes today , it seems...
I lack the education.
'Tis but a flighty, hopeless dream...
This quest for...publication.
                                            
Through thick and thin...
You've been my friend.
In both high and starving times.
You've been exploited...time and time again,
As a soundboard for my rhymes.
                                            
Poetry... I lay no claim to the field !
I am but a weaver of little verse.
Who would love to feel the hunger yield...
And hear a jingle in his purse.
                                            
Progress is a horrid beast !
The market is cruel and hard !
Publishers have been known to feast...
On the bones of Bohemian bards !
Poets and painters... the story is the same...
We must fast while there is breath.
But, they will surely praise our names...
And lift their glass, upon our death.
                                            
No !    Don't leave, old friend !   I'm in sorrow !
Please, try to bear my discontent.
Perhaps, a twenty you'd let me borrow.
You see, all my money is spent.
I paid a young man fifteen dollars...
For a typewriter he had "found".
It is an ancient rusty squalor,
But upon the hellish thing, I pound !
                                            
Pencil eraser replaces fingertip...
Allow the blisters time to heal.
Between A and W... the pencil slips...
I cannot get the feel !
Monotonous searching of the keys !
The eight should be an apostrophe !
At night...
I toss...
My mind is sick...
From the constant echo of...
click... Click...  CLICK !
                                          
I cannot shake it !
I want to yell !
I close my eyes...
And words I spell...
S-L-E-E-P  ...  S-T-O-P  !
I'm going mad !
But, come dawn...poverty tighted its grip...
It drained the last of the fortitude I had...
But, I did submit a manuscript.
                                            
I could not afford the postage...
for my labor to return...
In agony, I waited for reply.
In constant aggitation...
My empty stomach would churn,
As I watched the postman driving by.
                                            
Yes !   The end is near, ol' pal !
I cannot bear another blow !
It seems that the world is filled with...peafowl...
They've no need of a vagabond crow.
                                            
The reply came today.
What did it say?
Well friend, mark my words well...
I'll break sweat and toil...
In dung piles and soil...
But, I'll take no more of this Hell !
No more can I fight !
No more will I write !
I'll shovel rock 'til I lie beneath the clover !
They said...  "We only accept submissions on discs...
Please transfer the manuscript over ! "

© Copyright 2006 Larry F. Leake - All Rights Reserved
iliana
Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434
USA
1 posted 2006-02-15 12:49 PM


Terrific!  lol......loved the ending and hope it's true!   ...jo
nakdthoughts
Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200
Between the Lines
2 posted 2006-02-15 04:06 PM


not knowing what to expect..but I loved it...


M

The Lady
Member Rara Avis
since 2005-12-26
Posts 7634
The Southwest
3 posted 2006-02-15 04:25 PM




"You see, all my money is spent.
I paid a young man fifteen dollars...
For a typewriter he had "found".
It is an ancient rusty squalor,
But upon the hellish thing, I pound!"


Fantastic Uriah. Sure made me chuckle.


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