I find WB Yeats at his labors
right under the collar of my shirt.
I say “WB, what have you there?”
He’s toiling at my seams, like lice,
slowly working his way around my neck,
stitching and unstitching.
I ask the obvious: "But why?"
"To save you from a hanging
that’s why."
"Or beheading. Your
thoughtlessness, heedlessness
a capital crime."
I understand from this
how verbosity is a mortal ring
around the collar.
Yellow stains
of over-sweated
words. I thank him.
It has been said
A poem’s worth
a thousand words.
Miz Quickly
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“I understand from this
how verbosity is a mortal ring
around the collar.”
Gold stars for being witty!
(I liked the whole thing!)
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LOL! Thanks. It was a little… Odd…
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No more so than talking to a tree or a teddy bear… It worked.
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I enjoyed this whimsical conversation!
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This is fabulous!! I love the whole concept as well as how you have articulated it. So cool! One of those poems that makes me wish I’d come up with it.
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Thank you!!!
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