A Poet's Chore


This next poem is the labor I feel as a poet at times because the message coming through me feels so intense and yet here I go again putting it into a world that has put the word "poetry" into a frame of ridiculousness and not worthy of an open ear. People forget, poetry is in most everything they do hold dear. It's in all of our songs, cards, nursery rhymes, and other eternal words easy to recall many years from now.

A Poet's Chore


We are like the dinosaur

No one sees us anymore

Our pterodactyl metaphor

You've but chosen to ignore

Like victims of an unseen war

You're hiding out behind a door

But all the Gods are keeping score

What was shall be as was before

And all the poets apiece implore

But peace cannot begin to roar

While every dollar has its whore

Slaves to scrub the Master's floor

His pitcher full of souls to pour

He's a greedy collecting connoisseur

And so we grieve the lonely poor

On their island from our shore.


   Ciera S. Louise c. November 27, 2005