David Floren Poems

[N.B. This poem is a reaction to Mark Twain's notion that '[w]ar talk by men who have been in a war is always interesting; whereas moon talk by a poet who has not been in the moon is likely to be dull.' (source: Bartlett’s Book of Quotations, p.623 §16) .]

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A crutch wedged in a thankful pit,
Close-gripped with a knurled fist
- Suspension bridge of pure grit -
Each reached plank, a pearled day.
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Squirm in your seat and grind your teeth,
Rub your hands and set your jaw
Right when it takes you.
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Our lives, our souls – they're
Actually down here,
hard-returned.
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Language is water
To be poured
From any vessel,
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Life is rich with such variety.
Makes me itch with much anxiety

For liberal action.
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It starts with heart and vision,
Crisp voice of concision.

Such plain and precise demands:
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Describes yearnings:
Wend.

Play-thing, swaddle, mother, scribble
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Marketplace value is often found
Behind the wrinkles of the brown
Grab bags awaiting fresh owners,
Pal. You know the onus is yours.
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Freedom of Information
Is an Act, not a right.
It’s fairly tight-fisted.
You might say unfair.
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