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Loss of a Poet


The teakettle sings,

toast springs,

I sit with a pen,

stare through the window.


A possum appears

from under the fence.

Two dogs bark.

A rainbow arcs over

strings of houses

like beads on a chain.


A headline above the fold,

like a row of ballerinas on a stage,

lures my eyes.


Poet Maya Angelou Dead at 86


She believed dance

is the closest form of art to poetry –

balance, precision, pirouettes.


My thoughts slope

on a page, words

stumble, fall. So I

lift a cup of tea,

go outside, watch

the clouds, imagine

Angelou’s words

pulling me apart,

forming lines of metaphors,

balanced in the blue.


— t. l. cummings

Shutterstock image.


3 Comments Post a comment
  1. My Dear TL, this is such a wonderful response to Maya Angelou’s passing! Your wonderful descriptive phrases were really great.
    Especially loved – “My thoughts slope
    on a page, words
    stumble, fall.


    “the teakettle sings” – great lines!



    December 27, 2017
  2. It seems your words left seeds of inspiration and one has blossomed into “Spilling My Life”! I hope you will like it!!!


    December 27, 2017
  3. Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet and commented:
    Come read TL Cummings wonderful tribute to Maya Angelou


    December 27, 2017

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