[Jack Deth]

Hi, Amy:

Happy Birthday again, NicknamedBob!

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In a choice twixt poetry and potpourri.
I'll have to opt for poetry.
The scents that please me aren't of
cedar, roses or sandal wood.
Though if they please you, that is good.

I'm a Retrosexual kind of male.
Set in my ways and somewhat crass.
Who likes the scent of fresh cut grass.
Well tended leather and coffee when I wake.
Prepared to work in the elements. Hard to fake.

The waft of gasoline, fresh pine and honest sweat.
Under skies of blue, gray and raw, sleeting gales.
Even sudden summer Monsoons and downpours.
Not the sour kind from office cubicles galore.
I'll not apologize if my thinkings make you snore.

Jack.

[NicknamedBob]

The Poem

The poem rests inside my head,
Like carvings set in stone.
And all I have to do is cut away,
The words that aren’t my own.

Every singing bit of rhyme,
Is like a memory.
So all I have to do is shed,
The parts that aren’t me.

One thing I often wonder,
As I chop the chips away,
How much of me is taken with,
The message I convey.

With all the mass of messages,
The scriptings that I’ve cleft,
When I set out the last of them,
Will anything be left?


NicknamedBob . . . April 6, 2004

[PreviouslyA-Lurker]

Nice poem Jack. Welcome to Amy's Place!

[JustAmy]

Good afternoon, Jack.

I agree ... Poetry Day is much better than Potpourri Day.

Thank you for that cute poem. :)

Happy Potpourri Day.

[tuliptree76]

Thank you for the poem, Jack.