The Poem-Blower...

I blow
My horn with
Words aplenty.
Some people nod &
Some won’t hear me.
I make this broke-down
Sometimes, Glorious Sound. I blow
Solo arias… and my opus abounds.
Tell me if you hear me, yo. Tell me
If you feel me, tho. I blow my horn on

City streets,
In alleys, on rooftops
In jazzy beats. I sing sometimes
In ghetto riffs, or croon for moody blue
Sophisticates. Slinging these lyrics, in place
Of dime baggies, I dole out poetry on corners for
Free. Tell me if your hear, yo. Tell me if you feel me, tho.


I blow
My horn with
Words aplenty &
Some people nod &
Some won’t hear me.
Ain’t that the way of the world,
How sound & fury swirl all around
Us… sometimes broke-down, sometimes
Glorious. Sometimes gentle & often times
Furious? Would you tell me if you smell me, yo?
Like a rose against this madness, yo. See that’s
How poetry’s supposed to flow. So, tell me if you feel me, yo.

By Bluemoaner used here by permission of the poet
All rights reserved