Tell it to the Poem in My Pocket

..

Tell it to come on little cat feet
but not to eat the plums
   …..(or the nom de plumes);
I’m saving them.

Tell it not to stop by any woods,
it still has miles to go.

Tell it there are no balloons
filled with pretty people. The moon
is just the moon.

Tell it Grecian urns
…..are ugly.

Tell it the port is near and there
is no other sky,
and to not go gentle
anywhere
without a flashlight.

Tell it some caged birds like to
hum
and that

so much depends
upon

nothing.

Tell it
be not proud,
nor gray
nor
brillig, nor slithy
until you get to know ’im.

Tell it to be pithy,
my pockets are small.

Oops. Wait, I haven’t any pockets at all.

…………Brother, can you spare a poem?

..
Happy Poem in My Pocket Day. 😉

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2 Responses to Tell it to the Poem in My Pocket

  1. Love this poem, even if it’s not so pithy! I would love to walk on little cat feet – for an hour or so!

  2. Karin Wiberg says:

    I love this! Well done.

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