Since on that day, your verse is free,
With rhyme and meter void,
My presence there you will not see,
My phrases trite and cloyed.
Bukowski rules, and Kerouac,
Whose words I will not read;
Do let me know when all is done!
For Rhyme I willl not plead,
But write in solitude such verse
As scans and sings each line;
I hold it better, not the worse,
To make my stanzas shine.
Cortland KA5S 6/9/1999
Hey Cortland!
Oh surely that is not a pout
I see upon your lips.
What Peter meant is rhyme's not out,
His tongue just sometimes slips
Look at his post to me up there.
He says he'll take my verse.
I write in rhyme, I must declare
Though others may diverse.
DarkEyes DARKEYES2 6/9/1999 |
