Excuse Me Please

It occurred to someone, someone near me,
that my random use of speech,
has been an impediment you see
Even though I have been using words,
ever since I was the height of a knee

It seems, at least to this person,
that I have lost the keen ability
in my daily speech and reparte
that I no longer use words melodiously.

Furthermore I hear from this critic
the one that says I should flee
I should get away from them with haste
quickly, rather than eventually

For the very sound of my throat’s emanations
is a rasp that grinds on them positively
A millstone corrupted with granite
I think that’s how they’d put it to me

Well far be it for me to be verbose
To carry on when I’m not well received
To ignore the gasps and the grimaces
and to continue to ramble on incessantly

And to all you others who chastised me also
with looks of disbelief and frowns that I see
I will retire as you wish, when you wish it
but nevertheless it won’t be permanently

But rather I will withdraw for the moment
or at least until a cure for what ails me
can be found in some sort of elixir
Something poured down my throat that I need

It will have to be something quite potent
Probably quite harsh and frightening to see
to counter the offensive dip, full of onion
that now seems to permeate and irritate me.

Barbara Blackcinder


About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a need for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and mine when you read those from me.
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