Verse Exercises

A portfolio for her verses

The Game

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We could both play this game, dear reader, furnish the contract with signatures
where I offer the promise of convincing escape, subtly lull you into peeking at the world
through the little crack in the room I will build around you with a mellifluous tongue.
You, for your part of the bargain, will lend me suspension of disbelief,
win me a grant or a published piece to sit among the contented murmurs of the published
earnest in their ideology that poetry is nugget wisdom. But let us cut to the chase.
This voice that sounds so sure, too sure, belongs to no life guru. Imagine the poet
sitting at her desk, drumming her fingers, thinking of the next trick to beguile you with, licking her lips with a silver tongue.
But! Is there anything worth saying now that the act of putting to words overshadows what is?
I have no truths today, dear reader, and I tire of having to be spokesperson at humanity’s disposal.
Tell me, reader. Tell me.
.
.
This poem has appeared in an older blog.

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Written by thedoe

June 16, 2011 at 4:00 pm

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