‘Peter
& Paul’
The scientist
obsesses in his lab
The poet
adores the great spaces
& if he
does not
Then he’s a
lab rat
A man of
the cage
& it’s suppressions
of rage
That from a
blank room
He may
patent universals
The poet is
particular
That flowering twig, that passing bird
He must
know its seasonal songs
& his
cadence must never be wrong
& in
his odes
He must
sing along
©Malachi Doyle 2021.
‘Troubadours
& their pearl inlaid guitars’
We’ve
become more emotional about ourselves
& less
so about others
Love poets
& their muses no more
Fetishists &
their porn & preparing for war
Bring back
the love song, bring back
& those
singers who warm & heal
And open
chords plucked on strings
That vibrate
in concert with our heart strings
©Malachi Doyle 2021.
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