How pretentious
the poet’s pen is,
nattering nonsense
cobbled and collated
into couplets and quatrains.
The mysteries of life
explained; I am, in iamb.
A lot of alliteration;
love’s loss lamented
line by line.
Yellow pad in hand
we toil and tarry ‘til
the world weeps
in wonderment
at what we’ve written.
SMG
(Art Credit)
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4 comments:
As any poet not worth his salt will tell you, it's lonely at the top.
this is good...made me smile - I have one I posted recently venting about fricking free verse. I may send it to funnypoets.com just for sh**s and grins :)
amazing wonders,
love the image, handsome humor entry.
I really like this...it has heart.
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