deepundergroundpoetry.com
My Wife is a Shovel
Sometimes, I think that I might be a little bit pretentious
Scribbling these words down, hunched over on park benches
Try to make each rhyme come out more clever than the last
Why not make the next one even better in contrast?
Escalating, reaching up for that rung overhead
At the same time digging deeper, to this shovel wed
Search for hidden treasures, but there's no X to mark the spot
Unearth forbidden pleasures, so let's upturn that parking lot
Where creative thoughts sit idle, left in the dark forgot
Until they peel out and blaze a trail of sparks so hot
And a splash of ink on paper
Know these words will not be tapered
As they stream from left to right
And rapids carry them away
I stay afloat with all my might,
Not losing focus in the fray
Until it comes time to take a breather and dive under
Park those thoughts back in their spots at my weary behest
I've become exhausted hoarding all this loot I've plundered
Now I sink, drifting in peace, upon the riverbed I'll rest
Published 18th Jun 2018
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