Old Eyes
When eyes don’t see so good, at the end,
secret messages can sneak in.
Holiday and hellday are almost the same.
It’s hard to hold the letters just one way.
People and poesy manifest
by locking their opposites in the basement.
When eyes don’t see so good, at the end,
the petticoat of apocalypse is showing.
7 thoughts on "Old Eyes"
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love the picture of blurred vision as “the petticoat of apocalypse”
Wow
totally awesome
clever but so REAL
This a great little poem! The last line is magnificent.
Laughing and knowing this at the same time ……wonderful absolutely wonderful.
My eyes are getting pretty damn old, Mike, and my petticoats pretty long 😏
Btw it’s been a while since I’ve seen the word poesy anywhere. Thanks for excavating it.
Smart and creative, as always Poet!
Thank you all for your kind comments!