“I was mislaid,”
Eleanor Rigby said,
“Amused
at my own voice.”
She sat and sat and sat,
but instead of growing tired,
wrote:
“This poem I write
is for Me only.
Signed,
Miss Understanding.”
She didn’t know
all alone poems
find a reader
sitting,
darning & clicking,
long through the night.
Eleanor Rigby
thought she was writing
only for you.
When suddenly, strings
opened up the sky,
a quartet of likes,
and an aeolian
comment
trilled and thrilled
the air.
The Coming of the Toads 
Miss Understanding… I loved it, Joe. Your sense of humor is refreshing… I enjoyed the poem. Greetings from Cancun!
LikeLike
Thx, Diana! Thought I had lost you. Cancun looking wonderful. Love the colorful surfboards and the sea photos.
LikeLike
Here is an aeolian comment or three, bunched and tied with garden twine. You throw interesting things together.
LikeLike
the potpourri, the collage, the bricolage, melange, medley, mash, assembly (all with no instructions!)
LikeLike
All the lonely people ……da da da da da da da da da da da da da …..
LikeLike
Where do they all belong? In Blog poems?
LikeLike