By Richard Fligor
On my own, floating free,
An orchestra of one,
Parked at the beach before sunrise, moving words around.
Work and play, no difference.
What’s wrong with me is what’s right.
The plot of the day all mixed up.
This game, both real and fiction, is the game played.
Fiction is practice for your underground of lies.
Figure it out.
Sunup is sundown for me.
Mid-day is best napped away.
Up and down,
Back and forth,
I play with work.
It’s simply what I do.
Rain on the cockpit glass.
A shower of words my blast,
Shot out of my gun.
Words fly everywhere.
Talking is cheap.
Write first. Don’t be a fool.
Listen up! We’re all in the same boat!
Seek and you will find.
Please say you’re mine.
Richard Fligor is a long-time Edgartown merchant and writer. His collection “Breakfast Poems: Read a Poem a Day and Feel Good” is available on Amazon, and also at the Red Barn.
Poets with a connection to Martha’s Vineyard are encouraged to submit poems to Laura Roosevelt at ldroosevelt@gmail.com.
