Frosty Muse

I often felt that Robert Frost –
was in my own inflamed heart –
For when all else seemed harringly lost –
my pen had no trouble to start…

And when I oft did wonder aloud
if his spirit was slinking around –
the words simply came – proper and proud
as if he were I –  pound for pound.

And thought I should test this wise –
to prove it bullduggery or not…
I sat at a table three times the size
with nere miniature pen to blot!

And what upon my parchment wrought –
these magical words appeared –
“’tis just you, you flaming idiot!”
and to myself I’ve come so endeared…
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© 2014 John Allen Richter
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About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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