Glen Martin Fitch
I like to stack them tall
but then I dread
I'll find a dud I've penned.
Each syllable feels heavy
in my hand,
a sharp, slick sound
to pierce and then expand.
multi-meanings pack each shell.
A shot with match-grade words
set to propel incendiary sentences.
I use the slightly fraying phrases
as a fuse.
And oh, the satisfaction,
oh the fun to set with care
then hide the trip-wire pun,
or plant an ode or sonnet meadow
with no hint of hidden mines
of symbol, myth.
no offense meant on my part,
but every bullet's
aiming at your heart.
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Comments about this poem (MY ARSENAL by Glen Martin Fitch )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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