…it ain’t no sin

by grimbeau

The Poor Poet by Carl Spitzweg


The deep, odd, shock of it hit me in the sun

On the shed path, marooned on a concrete crack

Freed up took in the scene, shocked, turned;

Trundled, older, balder, back up the ramp

Freewheeled, calmer, silent, down the ramp

Came to rest beside the stable table,

Tossed my hair (singular) in the blue breeze

And wiped the puss from Barney’s weeping souls.

The moo-cows are gone home to roast

No more mutinous idiots barge in

Decide to play this game of life to win