By Rick McVicar
Poetry ricochets throughout my brain,
Bouncing along all the crevices,
The nooks and the crannies
Where my dreadful fears play
Havoc upon my inner peace,
Signaling a release
From doom and despair.
I know not where I picked them up
To fill my suitcase along with dirty underwear.
Words that rhyme are kind to me,
Giving me a sense of humor
Following a pituitary tumor
That cleared when I switched meds
To save me from harmful side effects.
Poetry does all kinds of things for me
It gives me hope that can’t be squashed.
In poetry I am washed
As clean as a newborn babe,
I’ll dance in the falling rain.
I’ll dance in the falling rain.
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