Idea

We set our brains into one single pile

Than climbed this height of intelligence

But couldn’t get too high

As the shape of the hill

Was clearly resembling

With a  shrew flagging bosom.

One of us from the pile

Assumed

That we should arrange the content of our skulls

Vertically.

We held long celebrations

For his crucial idea.

The honor of being the first

To start such a column

Pertained to the author.

When the last of the masses

Was put atop like a hat

We reached a colossal thinking dimension.

But hear, hear:

The weight of the parts

Crushed the one from the base

Our guru.

Burial

Won just once but nobody remembers

And lost the rest of the races.

At a decent jubilee

For a round number of wrecks

Knelt down with full resignation as told

Dug an intelligent hole

Fit for the size of my brain

And buried the malevolent organ

Director of many frustrations

With all possible honors,

Singing a march, even shot

For a final salute. End of the movie.

One season later had a regular job.

Did it better. Got remarkable home.

Reason

Following a successful interview

And a fruitful nine to five first week

God scratched the bald area of his head

With unclean, mountain erecting nails

Asked for inspiration and original idea

And went ready for a prose poem writing.

Seasons later, after final revision

He made up his mind and used step by step

The labeled instant coffee mode regulations

For turning words into things or whatever.

This is the beautiful reason

Some of the things, many beings

Are so hard and remote for my comprehension.

Tiger

Posted the picture of a tiger

But no cage

So he left his place

Eating my neighbors

While I was gone

For a hamburger.

Poems by Francisc Pal