Published May 1, 2022
by Matthew Scott Harris
finds yours truly sitting today
December 24th at 2:41 P.M. with slight
hunched over mien as edge of night
quite some hours away when height
of Santa Claus appearance bright
rosy cheeks glow insync with
Rudolph the reindeer red nose.
As an indie alt rock'n
tribe beck ha dishabille poet,
I view the challenge of writing analogous
to betting an heir or heiress
which includes gestation of an, emotion,
idea, sentiment, ...unbeknownst
if outcome birthed to be fabulous
then however the whimsical notion spins
within thine cerebral centrifuge,
the imagination pregnant with fetus
of a fledgling concept feeling
with byte size sea legs,
not quite ready for
prime time and beak comb devious
though, as swollen
womb dar full expansive
lettered girth manifests and coalesces
into miniature Confucius
versatile baby (unless unexpected contusions
render exertion aborted effort, the proud
which success inspires this scrivener
to tackle another and fleeting thought
and sire by product with audacity.
Matthew Scott Harris: Born in Cincinnati that buckeye state
January 13th 1959 - lxii years to date
A tangle of arms & legs testing lungs,
which sounded great
he kind of resembled
a misshapen octopus with oval pate
glowering inxs of deep purple
from blue mood being irate
thrust out the womb of Harriet Harris,
whom Boyce did date
yea... the grim reaper
stole me mama and papa
though yours truly
no longer does aggravate
over their respective deaths.
This poem is included in Poetry World #3, published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in NYC Poetry Magazine:
by Gary Beck
NYC Poetry Magazine is part of the Wax Poetry and Art Network.
- Visit the main Wax Poetry and Art Submissions Page to see all opportunities.
- Visit the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
- This website and all contents ©Kirk Ramdath and specified artists.