Poetry Thursday

I think it's a good idea to get into poetry. Not so into it, but enough to appreciate it. I want to read more poetry. The discipline poetry takes to create is noteworthy. A poet must take a thought and fit it into stanzas, using only the most appropriate words. Yes, it takes some imagination in order to understand it. But why is that dreaded? We need to exercise our minds. So, in that order, I hereby declare Thursdays Poetry Days.

To start it off, here is a poem by my grandfather, Ron Durham. This Christmas season has been rather sad for me since he recently departed earth for Heaven. He was an artist, a poet, a writer. You can imagine why I miss him so much. This is for your enjoyment.

To a Cockroach
(Or, Bug Me to Live)



Ah, thou cockroach, you endure
Far beyond my overtures
For you to be exterminated,
And myself emancipated
From the gran ubiquity
Of your creep-and-carwlity.
You resist all tech-damnation
You’d survive e’en radiation
From wars that do mere mortals in.
So tempted, I, to hate like sin
Your shuddery longevity
That points to some eternity –
Until I realize your drive,
Against all odds, to stay alive
Is like the very verve I need
To stand against the word and deed
That tempts me to despair of heart.
Live on, thou bug, and life impart!
– Ron Durham, date unknown