“As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.” ~ 18th century proverb

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Recorded Reading (1:59): https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/gx1xx0wfc3dfv33bgpy1h/Bending-the-Twig.mp3?rlkey=ydtoqdznf9zr9ryv8juc33j3q&dl=0

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Bending the Twig

I met a man who made
His living selling shoes
He said he had it made
He said he couldn’t lose

He bought them with a stink
Already well worked in
Sometimes augmented by
Bleu cheese he would put in

He said he could command
An even higher price
If billed in terms presenting
The opposite of nice

And that’s of what his quite
Considerable fortune’s built:
Misshapenness and odor
Accompanied by insult

I neither with his trade
Nor with their custom have aught quarrel
There’s no intent this poem to
Present some shallow moral

Delineating what in every mind’s
“Supposed” to be
“Healthy,” as opposed to
Anything like “unhealthy”

In my mind, if you manage to
Get what you need to get along
Without hurting anybody
You’re just making yourself strong

Making yourself happy
So then you can make others so
You’ll catch no disapproval,
This poet from, for how you go

But hope indeed it were indeed
Not a poet he were meant
To be, who pandered baseness to —
Original divine intent

Says if he chose to focus
Degrading images unto
Day after day — then could not write
High poetry, could you?

It truly takes all kinds, but just
Be certain that you know,
When you bend the twig, which way
You want that tree to grow

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Homeless until removal of the stalker/targeter/vandal/arsonist following her allows her to approach any landlord ~ even for a private parking space ~ this poet presently lives under perpetual threat of towing with all possessions should her 23-year-old van stop running for any reason.

She is badly in need of a modest reserve with which to field any emergency which might occur.

Donors may visit http://www.UgiftABLE.com , using code #72D-31S. It does take several days for the poet to be notified of your patronage.

Thank you for supporting quality in the fine arts.

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