You called me a wordmonger
with great affection,an endearment.
I knew when you said
I was your favorite writer
you meant it,
not just because you were
my husband.
But it’s ironic
like calling
a fat person Slim
or a short person Stretch.
Wordmongers toss words around
willy-nilly.
Mine are so deliberate
stitched and hand dyed
Turkish rugs perfect on both sides
suitable for kneeling in prayer.
The term conjures
fishmonger.
I imagine myself:
an open market
selling vowels, consonants
and assorted punctuation
weighing whole sentences
at a dollar a pound.
The scent of fish
transports me:
Jesus multiplying
loaves and fishes.
I just want to feed the world.
Wordmonger.
~~~
Photo Credit: Wine jug and food © Photowitch | Dreamstime.com
© 2010 by Joyce Mason
All Rights Reserved
joycemason.com
2 comments:
Hi Joyce
sorry to take so long to visit your new blog - is there no end to your talents? (rhetorical question!)
but it has been rather a distracting week including plumbers threatening to knock down my bathroom wall to get at a leak at 830 am last Monday.
(they didn't, thank goodness)
This is a great blog and I especially like "Wordmonger". There is such a need for quality poetry on the Web and you are certainly supplying it here.
May your poems flourish! Good luck with this great new site.
Anne
Anne
I'm so lucky to have such a supportive friend as you, Anne. My return to poetry is a true coming home. Thanks, and visit often!
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