Poetry, The Daily Blog

Keepers of Words

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Wallflowers by Donna Vorreyer


I heard a word today I’d never heard before—

I wondered where it had been all my life.

I welcomed it, wooed it with my pen,

let it know it was loved.


They say if you use a word three times, it’s yours.

What happens to ones that no one speaks?


Do they wait bitterly,

hollow-eyed orphans in Dickensian bedrooms,

longing for someone to say,

“yes, you . . . you’re the one”?


Or do they wait patiently, shy shadows

at the high school dance,

knowing that, given the slightest chance,

someday they’ll bloom?


I want to make room for all of them,

to be the Ellis Island of diction—

give me your tired, your poor,

your gegenshein, your zoanthropy—

all those words without a home,

come out and play—live in my poem.




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