Friday, November 13, 2015

Four Stupid Little Poems

Four Stupid Little Poems


I am here, each day,
selling myself to the world.
It's time I cut my prices
once again.

The Word

I sought le mot juste,
the right word, the needed word.
No one could understand
what it meant.


My awards and diplomas
have finally proven useful.
The backs are good for jotting
down grocery lists.


I found the same drawback
with every girlfriend.
They wanted to go places
and do things.

Stephen Brooke ©2015

In form, of a sort. Little thoughts that didn't seem worth the working up of anything longer.

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