Walk On - a walking poem

Walk On
by
Greg Pincus

When thumbtacks are strewn on the paths we must tread,
When sharp, jagged rocks are behind and ahead,
When we have to walk miles on freezing, slick snow,
When puddles of liquid hide dangers below,
When we cross hot pavement or scorching, red coals...
These are the times that will try all our soles.


And you're thinking "he really went there in National Poetry Month and on Poetry Friday?" And, well, yes... he did! If you're still craving more, the good news is that you can see what else is out there, too, if you head on over to No Water River to see this week's Poetry Friday roundup. There's great stuff posted there (including Renee's description of what Poetry Friday is and how to be a part of it).

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For Those Who Toll the Bells - a very silly poem

For Those Who Toll the Bells
by
Greg Pincus

Come hear the sad story of two poor, shy men
Who rang bells at a church in the shire.
The two men were twins though that fact was unknown
Since they lived out of sight in the spire.

The church bells were old, and their clappers were gone,
Yet the men loved their job heart and soul…
They would run towards the bells, always going face first:
The collisions would make the bells toll.

One day one poor brother was running full speed
When he slipped, and he tripped, then he fell!
He died on the ground, and though none knew his name,
All felt sure that his face rang a bell.

The very next hour, the other twin died,
Like his brother, his name known by none.
“But they sure are dead ringers,” the townspeople said...
So the brothers were buried as one.


The above was my fourth round entry in Ed DeCaria's March Poetry Madness in which I had to use the word "toll." At some point, I'll share the very peculiar first "toll" poem I wrote, but when I remembered the joke that the above poem is based on - a joke told to me by my father lonnnnnng ago - I wrote again, seeing if I could distill it into 16 lines (at that point, the maximum line limit in the Madness). I think I succeeded, and somehow, I moved on to the Final Four (where voting happens starting today until Monday evening - a line I will remove from this post after voting closes on the two "battles.").

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The Poet Talks Back -- a poem about writing/a poem about poetry

THE POET TALKS BACK
by
Gregory K.

You tire of my puns and jokes?
My meter makes you groan?
You think my rhymes are over-ripe?
My wordplay makes you moan?
There’s little I can say except it really could be worse…
I could become a backwards bard and only write inverse.


I'm posting an original poem each day in April in celebration of National Poetry Month. Links to this and other poems here on GottaBook (and I post all year round, because poetry is NOT just for April!) are collected over on the right of the blog under the headline "The Poems".

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Poem of the Day: Are You Twine?

ARE YOU TWINE?
by
Gregory K.

A tired, shredded, tangled string
Was taking a rest in its cot.
A passing swine asked “are you twine?”
It answered “No, I’m a frayed knot.”


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