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Albert's Trumpet

Kenneth, loves satire and writings to spotlight others, but he also has an "addiction" so to speak, to dramatic and abstract/prose poetry.

Starry, Starry Night . . .

Starry, Starry Night . . .

See yonder there, he’ez so old that he haz no hair

Hiz name’z Albert Slider an’ loves to drink cider

It’s turned ya’ know . . .hard as the convict’s care.

Ol’ Albert, ne’er took time tuh eat any food

Just pinin’ away, drunk on cider, singing without care.

See yonder there, there stanz a young man

Rusty trumpet in hand . . .

Growlin’ like a hang-over belly, no money, land.

Crawlin’ on all fours, dog-like steps poor Ol’ Dan.

See yonder there, lyin’ face down in clover fresh

Young lover Milly now lived past twenty-two.

Tryin’ hard to mend love, her broken life to mesh.

But then come the stranger cloak black thick . . .

She’s rolled over her last . . .

She’s drawn her last breath . . .oh, Milly so true.

Writer's summary – this piece interacts with three strangers who

do not know the other, but somehow they fit into life’s

tapestry so blurred to see away’s off, but upon close sight,

it makes fine sense.

This is my interpretation. What is yours?

Thanks, Kenneth

The trumpet knows no race or national origin.

The trumpet knows no race or national origin.

© 2018 Kenneth Avery

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