Basically Bread at Paper Poetry
A Basket of Poems
Ah, the warm, yummy, crusty, homemade breadth of poetry! How can we not bite into piece after piece?
A basket of fresh bread — warm, crusty blessing
and beguiling curse.
A moist perfectly browned chicken breast,
a platter of glistening sand dabs finned with capers,
even a baked potato so gorgeous it requires no fixings
I rarely finish.
But a basket of bread?
Lead us not into temptation.
A basket of poems — sweet fully embraceable blessing.
I can feast
and not only gain the right kind of weight
but grow lighter as well.
Every stanza, every line, every word, rhyme, or rhythm
feeding my quest for wisdom, compassion, depth,
my hunger for fresh perspectives.
Song slathering
my dry spirit with butterfly-yellow inspiration,
my churned soul with peace.