ON WRITING AND RUNNING
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I tried to be compliant
While I sought poetic license
The meter doesn't matter
There's no pitter with the patter
My feet could be iambic
Which sends me in a panic
I'm very pessimistic
Which could mean anapestic
I'm sticking with the rhyming
Which finds me compromising
The very content of my verse
Which seems to be a curse
I tried to be prosaic
Which led me to trochaic
And the thought of feet dactylic
Makes me yearn for alcoholic
So for now I'll sit in silence
As I await poetic license
It keeps me so alive
I can hardly wait to drive

  • Home
  • AZ_Records
  • Blog
  • Poetry
    • Aging >
      • Wax And Wane
    • This N That
    • Depression
    • Positivity
    • Running >
      • Running Again
  • Contact