Poem #99

Oh, tell us!

Won’t you tell us?

 

The master-poet smiled.

The smile meant no.

 

He adjourned to the coast to die.

From a clifftop verandah he peered down

At the swash, hoping for a glimpse of Venus,

Birthing on the waves.

He didn’t see her,

And so he lay down to die.

 

Crowds bubbled to hear The Simile:

Students, professors, aficionados,

Past lovers, fellow poets,

Those who knew the master-poet

As a sardonic cad.

 

Ahem.

 

I’m like the tooth fairy,

In that I’m secretly your Dad.

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