This is just poetry. It won't save you, but it may locate you so that a rescue party can be sent out. — Dean Blehert

Friday, April 17, 2009

Give Us This Day Our Daily Poem

[Note: This time, three poems -- one for Friday, one for Saturday and one for Sunday -- won't have time to send poems out on Sat. and Sun.]

Some were paid in beauty,
some in strength, some in jewels.
I got poetry. Now that a billion poems
won't buy a loaf of bread,
I choke on poetry while others
starve on bread.

[Note: I liked that when I wrote it, but now I think maybe "I feast on poetry while others starve on bread" makes better sense -- though maybe a bit glib. Really what a poet chokes on is too much poetry he's been unable to give away/share/send off into the world. I'm eager to deal with empty nest syndrome. Often it seems to me "writer's block" has to do with all the attention the poet has attached to poems that have never been acknowledged, understood, admired, recognized. One of the great advantages of having appreciative readers is, that once I feel my poems (like kids with good jobs and families of their own) have rooted themselves in the culture, I can forget about them and have new things to say.]

On the horizon
bare trees
make distance famous.

Wake my life...please!

[Note: Some of you may not remember the line this is based on, the most famous gag of stand-up comedian Henny Youngman: "Take my wife...please!" (Yes, Henny, not Henry)]

Dean Blehert
Blogs: (short poems) (essays and longer poems)
New book (Deanotations, Volume 1) available at

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