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Good morning, Danielle.

A poem I wrote recently:

Trampolines

Phil, April 2024

Life bounces like Ben next door, as he leaps and flips on a backyard trampoline.

Like peach blossoms that burst from bulging buds come day and retreat at night.

Like bubbles popping one by one to the surface of a ferment-scented poolish.

But the dark side’s alive in these similes, like in life. Will Ben fly too far,

landing hard, head kissing the rocky ground? Will a May hard frost dash hopes

for peaches swimming in cream? Will the dough flatten? Will life plummet?

A life ricochets, shoots along a manic roller coaster, soaring up

through stratospheric elation, diving down to delusional depths of despair,

out of control, possessed by an angelic, demonic, bipolar, rapscallion.

A brain swirls, like a seductive siren twirling in an A-line, V-neck dress,

dizzy with delight, who collapses, spent, dejected, undesired, alone.

A poet poises at a precipice, preps, then trampolines away to a primal poem.

.

Definition of poolish for those who are free from baking bread: a highly fluid yeast-cultured dough. It's a type of pre-ferment traditionally used in the production of French bakery products.

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Thank you for sharing your poem! I like it. Life IS an adventure, a learning experience, however it comes. I'm thankful for this. Have a great day!! XO

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