“I Hate Poetry”


…said the middle school boy slumped in the comfy chair.

I glared at him.

He glared at me.

A showdown.

“Found Poetry”, I said.

“What?” he quipped.

“Watch”, I said.


Smile, I saw.

Laugh, I heard.

Sometimes you just have to let them play.

With words,

and phrases,

and sassiness,

and subtle compliments.

With funnies,

and rhymes,

and something that is plucked out of nowhere to someone who heard something there,

and let others borrow it for their own.

Found Poetry.

Try it.


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