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Candy.
Racks of it
within his grasp.
No!
But, Mom?
She moves ahead
emptying her cart.
Gum.
Hey, I
said no!
He turns to see
An older face.
She smiles.
Remembering.
© by Robert Manchester.
Used with the author’s permission.
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Robert Manchester lives in New Hampshire, surrounded by leafy trees, stone walls, memories of Robert Frost, and lots of living poetry legends. He's been writing and publishing poems for 50+ years, but quite prefers writing to submitting, so seldom gets around to the latter. Robert confesses that he likes to write edgy poems about the "underbelly of life--the junk cars, tumbledown trailers, goat pens in the front yard, and the like," though he also likes haiku and, of late, is experimenting with syllable and meter.
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codder@earthlink.net:
Robert, my cousin, is special......I love this poem especially....Thank you.
Posted 12/15/2015 01:05 AM
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cbaustin:
I love the underbelly of poetry!
Nice,sweet,simple poem-kudos
Posted 01/25/2011 10:55 AM
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Arlon:
Robert's a friend, whose interest in poetry I had only learned of in the last few years. This poem is sweet and his "underbelly" pieces tap into a similar, though more visceral, emotional place. Maybe we'll get to measure these in a chap book?
Posted 01/25/2011 05:51 AM
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Katrina:
I love this, Robert! If you write haiku, you might like to try tanka. I'm experimenting. :)
Posted 01/25/2011 04:34 AM
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