The Poet’s Pen
“…Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven…the poet’s pen…gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.”
William Shakespeare
Perhaps heaven is
Lexington in Kentucky.
Arrangements are made.
No one left to kick buckets.
Tomorrow might well exist.
The first nations know.
Regardless be ownership.
Each piece fits where sensible.
Each passing soul lifts the place.
Sometimes that’s enough, a name.
14 thoughts on "The Poet’s Pen"
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reads to my eye like dragonlore.
Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay
I dug the last line immensely – the set up was class.
I love this! And Lexington!
“Each piece fits where sensible.” is exactly what I needed to hear this morning. Beautiful poem, Coleman.
This poem has a power and weight to it in its parity of line and balanced impactful final couplet
an elegy
worth
weeping over
(in awe)
I agree
Each line has impact! (I’m in awe of that skill.)
“Each piece fits where sensible.
Each passing soul lifts the place.” —
Those lines especially lyrical, insightful, and uplifting to me.
Sometimes Kentucky does in seem like heaven, or a least a refuge from other less sane places. Other times not so much. Anyway I love your love for this your adopted paradise. I love it too.
My heaven is definitely Lexington!
Yes:
Each piece fits where sensible.
Last two lines made me truly smile.
Indeed, the poet can point to heaven, wherever it may be found, as you have done here! (And thanks for bringing in the first nations.)