I don’t do poetry. I don't do stinky diapers, windows, football.
But most of all, I_DON’T_DO_POETRY!
I once thought I could, back when I had a lot more hair… And lot less weight.
I don’t do poetry.
I don’t write it, can’t hear it …
Except…in the Kingston Trio, Limelighters
Mozart, Crocie, Stevens, Bobby Bare.
Compare and contrast….Cooper and Manson (Marilyn, not Charles)
I don’t do poetry.
I don't write it, don't read it ....
Except…Kubla Kahn and his pleasure dome,
Wordsworth's “trailing clouds of glory”,
Quoth the Raven .... “Nevermore”
I don't do poetry
I don't write it, don't see the point ...
Except…The hawk hovering over my yard, poised
So far up I have to imagine her muscles tensing before she dives, strikes.
Last night's sunset...Sunrise waiting for the race to start...breathtaking...
And Jet Lei. No way THIS Romeo must die!
I don't do poetry
I don't write it, can't smell it...
Hot, homemade bread, fresh donuts
Lincoln roses, sun-warmed skin.
The lingering smell of baby shampoo.
But I don't do poetry
I don't write it, can't taste it....
Mmmmmm....lemonade...Shaker-style, on a hot afternoon
Belgian Cheese Cake, Belgian Chocolate
Any kind of chocolate! Heaven in the mouth!
I don't do poetry!
I don't write it, can't feel it....
Baby's skin, koosh balls!
Flower petals, swimming on a hot day,
Skin on skin.
I don't do poetry.....I live poetry.
Evilbadwrong