Poetry alleviates the poverty of the heart

I can assure you
there is little if any swooning
going on around here;
to admit you love
writing poetry in Barnsley
is to label oneself rather queer.

I feel pain
for the people
who do not love Keats;
my heart goes out to them
my soul for them it weeps;
poetry can lift
all human condition
as nothing in this world can;

poetry alleviates
the poverty of the heart
and can make anyone
a richer man.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011 

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Telling lies to my dog

The dog sits up;
she needs no sound
to hear you come;
she is tuned to your footsteps
and to the door she runs;
Nothing; only echoes,
I avoid her expectant eyes;
ashamed of myself
to stoop so low
as to tell my dog a lie.
“It must have been the wind”;
“A leaf against the window”,
she turns; she looks
and wags her tail
as if this will ease my sorrow.
She knows I know
that you lay on a foreign shore;
I know she knows
it wasn’t your footsteps
outside the windswept door.
again she turns; again she looks
as she skulks into the other room,
she brings to me
her favourite ball
and for one second
I forget you.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011