No need for any poet
to justify
some swings creek
if rusted
and
music ensues
some are oiled
and soft
noiseless
birds sing
all love
the poetic muse
never change your gait
just coz
I don't like to see you
at my gate
come and swing
in the garden of Paris
and say
Captain swings anywhere
any way
be happy and gay
now let's swing
and
ance as you may
No one should come
my way
my swinging is enough
to make you enjoy
O
I am a Captain of love
O boy
All Ahoy!!!
Comments
I get...
the sense that you are coming to terms with your poetry and it's reception.
That is a good thing. You can't please everyone all the time. I like the simile of a swing and your focus. I had a friend in my youth, that wouldn't use a swing that [creaked]. He even went so far as to bring a can of oil to the playground, when he couldn't find a swing that didn't make noise. I on the other hand, liked the soft squeak that changed with each back and forward swing. I closed my eyes and swung like a metronome keeping time. Add a [d] to the word dance. ~ Gee.
.
great Geezer sir
we all are made of the same soil
but measurements are different
O the Lord
to make me deaf
has hastened
so swinging is great
at nights late
no oiling needed
fewer expenses
broader perceptions
all hidden