yeah

a poem by Dale Costello, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

I wonder
how many words
qualify in the telling
how many strokes
of a fine tennis racket
win wimbledon
footsteps
upon a cellared moon
roadsigns on a global highway
creeping up on me
but i like that
mirrors
glint in the sun
catching my rearview
ahead and behind
a lovers truthful mind
rhymes to the cause
weary liberated applause
from another reality show
yeah, i know...

the words
come swiftly
independent
of the nothing free
policy at the closing door
tripped on his egg
consequently,
broke his spoon
another sentence
drifting off to sleep
manic
in the reality
yeah,
and she's deep.

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