Poems from michaelhmurph
Brows furrowed a poet writes
Beads of sweat pearched on the plows of his forehead
Quill twitching on paper
Writing, composing a...
A man spoke to passersby
wrinkles evident on his face
present also, is wisdom
voice heard but not absorbed
just the town's old crow
oh how...
Young men sit
under an indigo sky
patient.
Poles extend over water
meanwhile
The first fisherman stops
over taken in thought
for in his...
On What authority do you come?
whose jurisdiction resides here?
better still
who are you?
to ask my name
to ask me to scribble away with...
I don’t possess eloquence.
The way I speak isn’t correct.
Slang, slurred slipping across vocal cords,
and social norms.
Looks of contempt...