Response to Graham Nunn on Fatherhood Day 17

Fig Trees and Poets

 

Before the birds begin

and night slips to green

at breaking dawn

 

It is still, with waiting

under the wide canopy

of a Moreton Bay Fig.

 

But then a poet’s child

comes Ginsberg howling

and crying to the moon.

 

He’s Charlie Bukowski blasting

and detonating fast

chaotic metaphors.

 

© M.L.Emmett

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poem

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s