Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Fault Tea

In honor of National Poetry month and because the line below inspired me, I'm going to attempt a poem a day in April.


"I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems."
Wislawa Szymborska

April 1 - Poem 1:

Fault Tea

The aloe plant needs a bigger pot
The energy to change it, I have not
Is that what killed the poor little fish?
My laziness and too small a dish?

Folded laundry and made up beds
The pins that hold us and keep our steads
But dirt is lurking beneath the couch
Is that why he's been such a grouch?

The doctor said my way is right
Changing triggers as I might
But there might be organic harm
Not my fault but my body's charm

Is my body hate and grief the cause
Or am I innately built with flaws?
A designer evident, I think not.
But knowing ahead would ruin the plot

Do we actually reap what we sow?
Or do others catch our flying blow?
I'll ignite love and fan the flame
But shy away from pointing blame

If I did, if I hurt us all
What good now to know the gall?
Shame's too bitter a tea to drink
Grace goes down better, I tend to think.

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