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April 2, 2011



I always thought listening to poetry
    was like going to church.
Reverential. Quiet. Introspective.
Just beyond comprehension.
Maybe you do not understand it,
but it was good for you, like cod liver oil. 

One day I sat
in a scene from the child’s book:
“The Emperor’s New Clothes”.
The poet weaving on the loom,
everyone oohing and aahing.
I stood up and yelled
“What the hell is he talking about?” 

Then my heart felt poetry should be more like
    the summer church picnic.
A lot of story telling, dance, and laughter.
Inner secrets shared by friends under the oak tree,
people who sat in the pews on Sunday morning. 

So I read – and listen – and try to appreciate all –
But I enjoy the down to earth, homemade dishes
a lot better. 

Until I tasted Mrs. Jones lyric version
of home made, Rhubarb pear apple pie.
“What the hell was that?”
I was heard to mutter.

Ray Brown

Consider purchasing my book of poems, “I Have His Letters Still” – Poetry of Everyday Life ($11.95).  Available on Amazon at or purchase an autographed copy at

2 Comments leave one →
  1. April 2, 2011 10:45 am

    Oh Ray! This gave me a good laugh, in a good way too. Funny tie in, great work!

    • Ray Brown permalink*
      April 2, 2011 11:17 am

      Thank you – I am pleased you enjoyed the humor…..

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