Back when corn and sap was all I had, I wrote like this. 1986. Do you like it?

Question

Pen and ink are your miller's wheel
Grinding verses from thoughts you recall
Your stock in trade are the words and refrains
Paid for with tears from us all

A moment in time, a glass of red wine,
Perhaps a dear friend and a fire
A cool summer breeze and a metaphor please
And the stories you tell, we desire

Your poets world is a curious world
Somehow, locked away
With your colored glass and brandy flask
And painful yesterdays

Like scissors and tape for an old photograph
You mend fragments of days long gone
So careful to save from all those who gave
Your poems the wings that they fly on

You close your eyes to the madness outside
Lost in the sounds you remember
Of walking a path, or taking a bath
A splash, the crackle embers

Asking "why" of the rain, "how come" to the cane
Shouting "hey" to the ones who remember
"No more of this, please" you call to the trees
"No more” to the shadowy timber

Sometimes when caught by the afternoon air
You leave us, just for a while,
To buy bits of time with your nickels and dimes
Then piece them together forever

I sent this one to an editor. He said, "Banal crap fit for the bin!" I didn't write poetry again until 1992.

Answer 1

This is, by far, the second-to-best one that I've read...of yours!!! First is the 'ancestor' one.

Absolutely funny, but in that funnyness is the truth and nothing but the truth...verse in time, with mortal rythme, not any shame, you got game!

Elysabeth...poemhunter.com

Answer 2

Pass the "Corn Squeezins" and the Sap syrup for my Flap Jacks.

Write On TD.

Steven Wolf

Answer 3

You really do have a real God-given talent, my friend. Good stuff.