In the year of our Lord

The Truth can match wits with anyone!

Sometimes a wit is a twit
who gets along with everyone
and unfortunately sometimes no one.
No one is of course not very sociable
so is not held accountable
in my computer’s data tables.
Since I know everyone
Has at least one good poem
Locked inside them
I have inspiration
To write and write and write.
My computer’s vast data tables
Have room to spare
While I type and type and type!
Now are you sure I don’t have
At least one poem
You would like to copy?

(A twit’s view)

@INK Smudges

Sunflowers shower me with wisdom
Then meet me half-way
That I may show you my way
And you could if you would please
Show me the way and also
Show me how to remediate my errors
Into which I may have fallen.
Might trees centuries old dance
For your pleasure –  so also for ours
When walking a well-worn path
Amongst our dancers’ desires
And our fellows also walking!
A field of sunflowers so regal
Impress upon me and my friends
A divine site where dwell
We would could we continue praying
Long past our expirations stated
Properly on our containers.
But what is the expiration rite waiting?
If our most radiant sunflower spoke
With God’s grace for another three hours
While we put fresh diapers on ours,
Then who is holding closed the gates
Other than our very selves
Too many in over abundance?
Surely we must be in over abundance
For even we are still clearly observing
Our sunflower cured to brandy wine.


@INK Smudges