Phylicia Barnes, the seventeen year old young woman who disappeared from Baltimore in December 2010, still influences me from the grave. When her body was found naked on April 20, 2010 in the Susquehanna River, I didn't and still don't have the words to express my grief. I turned to poetry to try and find some metaphor to deal with this kind of horror Her killer/killers have not been found. Anyone who could kill that beautiful young woman is very dangerous. If someone knows something, please tell it before someone else is killed.
I'm bringing this back because I don't think I'm exposed to enough poetry. I like reading through books of poetry to find poems to put on this blog. Enjoy.
|Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face|
|by Jack Prelutsky|
Be glad your nose is on your face, not pasted on some other place, for if it were where it is not, you might dislike your nose a lot. Imagine if your precious nose were sandwiched in between your toes, that clearly would not be a treat, for you'd be forced to smell your feet. Your nose would be a source of dread were it attached atop your head, it soon would drive you to despair, forever tickled by your hair. Within your ear, your nose would be an absolute catastrophe, for when you were obliged to sneeze, your brain would rattle from the breeze. Your nose, instead, through thick and thin, remains between your eyes and chin, not pasted on some other place-- be glad your nose is on your face!