Saturday, April 9, 2011

something's not quite right. . .

Sometimes I wish to write a line
But worry that it will not rhyme.

Then a rebel deep inside my soul
Says "would you please just let it go?"

And while I try to write free verse,
I slip back to Zuessian of course.

(I'm rather proud of my three unrhyming almost rhymes.)

No comments:

Post a Comment


half a league half a league half a league onward. . . a wind which whips the puddles dry. . .my friend you would not tell with such high zest. . . here where the world is silent. . .he took his vorpal sword in hand. . .nothing beside remains. . .the sun was shining on the sea. . . all the kings horses and all the kings men . . . lives of great men all remind us. . .

Once uttered, the words can't be unsaid
Once thought, a thoughts un-unthinkable
The written word can't be unread
A dream, once dreamt is unsinkable

So exposed our lives are filled
With a richness incomparable,
Which in time will always yeild
A damage unrepairable.