Testimony- Part 1

Testimony- Part 1

I am poet.

I cannot sing the melodies of Whitman, or warble
like Longfellow (thank god!)- nor dare the rare
mystic choir that is Blake. As for Chaucer, Shakespeare,
they are gods I dare not even approach, except in awe,
but I have ridden Ginsberg’s boxcars, boxcars, boxcars
metaphorically, and the rhythms of his rails are not
awesomely alien arias and I would dare hum the tune.
Envying the harmonies and lyrics of Ferlinghetti and Rich,
of a Dickinson or an Angelou, I have risked singing antiphons
in their more familiar tongue, but legion is my ignorance,
and my instrument too untried, too new.

Still, I am poet, however minor in key, content, but not sated,
with my gift as it grows; I will sing cadences and measures
given me and let the future, if it will, sing along.
…………………………………………………………………………………… 5/21/96

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About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
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