The Bard

The board has booked the sage
and poetry speaks in the park
to earn a living wage.

The poems speak to all
and yet they wait with bated breath
for other shoes to fall.

The barb has hooked the sage
as bait for all the hungry sharks
he bleeds upon the page.

To Antigone and Beyond

A few years ago I took my first college course (English 102) in 26 years. I was at mid-term and learned that I had a B plus going at mid-term despite the fact of the 26 years and despite the fact that the average age of my classmates was far less than half my own (sorry, I am proud of this)….so I was all giddy and excited sitting in class-- supposed to be taking lecture notes and this is what I wrote.

To Antigone and Beyond


I'm shaking, squirming, out of sorts,
incredibly befuddled.
I'm taking notes in fits and spurts
my concentration muddled.

Antigone was on my mind,
and then, her lovely sister
Ismene, but then I find
she’s wed an anarchist--er.

Approaching writing full of fear,
my inner diction airy,
I start my poem late in March,
I'll end in February.

Statement: Sorry, I didn't say it was any good.

Question: What’s wrong with me?