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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448262" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Visit To Poemville</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come with me now<br>to visit the town<br>where all the Poems live.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There we have fine houses<br>carefully built<br>with words, verisimilitudes<br>and verbs; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">wide open windows; <br>poetic friends waving from inside</div><div style="margin:10px 0">some shutters are closed-<br>inhabitants moved on-<br>deleted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our streets<br>have funny names: <br>Heart Break and Bitter Regret<br>Love Lane and Candy Dates; <br>Shoulda and Coulda Avenue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have some verbs in the Infirmary<br>awaiting Transitivity; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The nouns are in the ICU<br>real unconformable in there; <br>lots of feelings in ICU-<br>good and bad.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There are the Orphaned Poems<br>where Imagination suddenly departed<br>leaving them dispirited and inspiration-less<br>They stare at me from their blank pages.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In our cemetery<br>are the dead and buried ones-<br>some poems you loved to death</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but they just could not live alone<br>their Similes Similed-<br>got watered down too much<br>and they.<br>just passed away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I buried them one by one<br>with a tiny cry<br>and goodbye; <br>maybe I loved them too much.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At the local Bitter Bar<br>all lined up Cowboy Style<br>are the One's Gone Wrong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They drink too much of Stale Gerunds<br>and their Swaggering Participles<br>are off-putting to the many, <br>who walk past the Saloon Doors<br>where only their heads and feet<br>show; <br>no torso seen; <br>no body in them<br>to sustain<br>them as poems.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some are in re-development<br>being re-conceived; <br>others are beyond rehabilitation; <br>not dead, <br>not alive<br>yet they sit on my desk<br>starring straight ahead; <br>nothing to say.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But here now<br>is the hospital <br>perhaps our happiest place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Inside<br>new Baby Poems<br>being born'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">their Baby Grammar<br>just starting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As I write their first lines<br>I hear myself giggle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lonnie+Hicks">Lonnie Hicks</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448262" data-title="A Visit To Poemville de Lonnie Hicks" data-description="Come with me now
to visit the town
where all the Poems live.

There we have fine houses
carefully built
with words, verisimilitudes
and verbs; 

wide open windows; 
poetic friends waving from inside

some shutters are closed-
inhabitants moved on-..."></div>
</div>
</div>