PRIDE SUNDAY

Be gay at Pride;
I can only wish-well.
You have naught to hide,
as I must punch the work-bell.

A kindred soul ,in all things queer,
though physically absent,
spiritually near.

So toast to me,
I do implore.
As I cheer for thee
to the banner fore.

ODE TO ROBERT MILBY

PROLOGUE:
The ubiquitous Mr. Milby, like Figaro
in Rossini’s, Barber of Seville,
is called and pulled in many directions.
And like Figaro, leaves his patrons
shouting "BRAVO".
----------------

An impresario of Hudson Valley poetry,
whose own voice echoes through
these river canyons.

A mentor to budding poets/
a guide for veteran poets/
an exemplar of elocution.

A font of knowledge of those,
whose shoulders we stand upon.

A troubadour of Gothic lore/
a chronicler of Celtic Druids/
an All-Hallows-Eve herald.

A modern poet who reminds us
not to forget the past.

A quick smile/
a personal friend/
a professional colleague.

So, Mister Robert Milby,
we as one shout
“Bravissimo”.



©TPuma/MMXII