Poems and Poetry

It Is What It Is | A Poem by Roy Pullam

My fare is basic
Plain bread lines
Water the only beverage
Peasant ramblings
With no interest
In cloth napkins
And finger bowls
The smooth language
Of couplets
Of iambic pentameter
That takes away
From the message
I long to leave
My yarn
Visible without finesse
Is not for everyone
It is bone and marrow
To ponder
To find signs and signals
Half-hidden images
Among the cuteness
Of word juggling
I am
Open and available
The pure nakedness
Of thought

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