the poet

by alexander gray

alexander gray writes poems about poetry , about what it means to be a poet, and poems about other, mostly famous, poets

the poet walks along the shore and listens to the ocean’s roar bankers and generals mind the store but only the poet knows the score the little town in slumber lies beneath the pale moon’s drooping eyes across the weary lightening skies a solitary black bird cries i was a banker long ago there was nothing that i did not know about profits, stocks, and deeds and other things nobody needs > i saw a message on a wall written in a scraggly scrawl predicting civilization’s fall and i thought, yes, that says it all i took to the open road eager to practice my new code of beauty truth and ecstasy but nobody slowed down for me but i care not - the sun will shine on me and on my bottle of wine if you haven’t got a quarter, give me a dime if you haven’t a dime, the treat is mine