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Sometimes (all the time) I forget that Tumblr exists.
Twitter is simply enough of a waste of time.
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This is a poem I recently wrote, from which my tumblr’s title comes.
I keep a poet in my pocket.
He comes out whenever I need resplendent words or timely rhymes.
He gives me marvelous motifs and alluring alliteration.
Because in this day and age, we could always use more poetry.
There is a paltry supply of poetics in politics.
There’s nothing romantic about saying “you betcha,” and
misspelled signs are not quite lyrical enough for my taste.
I keep a poet in my pocket for those poor souls unlucky enough to carry none in theirs.
He adds some color to our cold and cloudy days.
And he certainly contributes to my otherwise drab English papers.
I mean, who wants to read about the linguistic differences between Tolkien and Rowling
If there’s no flow to it?
I don’t think my science teachers appreciate him as much though.
They consider his work to be excessively extravagant or recrementitious.
(Those aren’t their words, those are his. They settled for “unnecessary”).
I keep a poet in my pocket.
And on cold winter days, when I am all bundled up in my warm winter coat,
My hat for that sports team I support, and my technicolor dream scarf-
If you squint your ears a little and listen very closely,
You might hear his muffled screams as he gasps for air.
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ditto-old asked: :DDDDDD
HAIIII HAIIII
HAI! I has no idea what I be doing… yo. (that “yo” was ironic).
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I’m on Tumblr now.
No idea what I’m doing.
Lost, like in New York.
That was a haiku. But seriously, tumblr is odd. It’s like being lost in NYC but without having the easy-to-figure-out street numbers. And without getting honked at and stared at for wearing a Red Sox hat. I’d say it evens out.
