Price List
for my friends

am I not good enough to be happy,
to be wealthy, have I not been

isn’t it a matter of
whether you’ve been bad or good,
for Santa to show up
with a sack on his back

deprived of gifts for so long,
I need him to show up
with sack just for me

who ever brought me though,
the gift to write poetry
to write anything I wish,
anything at all, almost any time I want
who brought it when

have I bowed in humility,
in appreciation sufficiently, for what’s priceless

whatever pen I pick up, like magic,
like a well you could draw from always,
fills up with poetry, fragrant as perfumes

Padre Pio received the gift of the stigmata
and though he bled, Christ-like,
from five wounds, this gift was coupled
with the gift of the scent of heaven

I want to be hungry only
for what heaven sends
for what heaven brings


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
2:34 p.m. 27/09/07