Thursday, February 3, 2011

Will Work for Food

Writing without reservations ...

I've read the works of mighty hands,
whose feast I stand before;
and ask them for a place to land,
quoth Raven: nevermore.

I tell them all how marveled they
this man, from just a child;
and ask them if there's any way
I'd sup with Oscar Wilde.

The bounty rich and well-deserved,
I'd write verse for a scrap;
and if they had no seat reserved
I'd sit on Chaucer's lap.

I'd write for simply writing's sake,
and hope the words would fill
this hunger makes my belly ache,
to be a Bard like Bill.

As poetry sustained this lad,
when sustenance he craved;
made me the Muse Lord Byron bade
farewell, and my soul saved.

And so I sit here writing still,
My pen shall give no peace;
until the day these revelers will
that I may join their feast.

©2011 R.J. Gardner - All Rights Reserved


Fegger said...

A friend once wrote:

"...Inhaling then, the moment caustic,
With innocence feigned, unguarded,
Ingesting free the poison’s lick,
For peace he will then barter.
Release in silent ecstasy,
As his soul retracts to heal,
Birthing words refractory,
In life, such visions feel."

...and, of course, you will have your place at the table, brother (I'll be the guy in the rented tux---day job---seating you and offering you more 'Ripple', MD-20-20 or 'Boone's Farm'.

Karen said...

I would be intimidated to sit at that table. Perchance they would permit me to work in the kitchen, and peek in whenever Fegger opens the server's door.