Poetry By
Ben Orlin
Published on: 3/12/2013
A Day Went By
A day went by and I didn't grow, and I didn't cry or cheer. And I felt no pain, and I took no risk, and I'll think back in a year, and my mind will skip, and recall not a thing of the now, the this, the here. And when that clock strikes midnight, the day will disappear.
Published on: 3/11/2013
The Hardest Thing
The hardest thing for unproved men— it scares them to the bone— starting out a journey with ending still unknown. The hardest thing for wiser men— it makes their blood run cold— carry out a journey whose ending is foretold.
Published on: 3/8/2013
Fathers
My father broke a record that my father's father set. I don't think I can break it— my kid might break it yet. In my father's room I found his father's father's pen. I'll give it to my kid— so words can flow again. My father's father showed me once his father's father's grave. "Save a thought of him," he said, "It's all that we can save."
Published on: 3/7/2013
A Rat in Your House
I might be a rat in the nooks of your house, a plague in the floorboards and walls. I hide when it's light, and I feast when it's dark, on the crumbs that I hoard from my crawls. I gnaw on your cords, I spurn all your traps, I chew every sock and each sleeve. But sometimes I come out, and I let you see me. Not everything's meant to deceive.
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