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Literature Text
I wrote a pome
I had to write - it kept me up
through half the night. And what a nit I felt next day,
when sturm und drang had run away.
But potery gets in your veins
until you bleed words, and your brains
are only good for rhyming.
But I won't mope,
I live in hope,
To make my mope a poem.
I had to write - it kept me up
through half the night. And what a nit I felt next day,
when sturm und drang had run away.
But potery gets in your veins
until you bleed words, and your brains
are only good for rhyming.
But I won't mope,
I live in hope,
To make my mope a poem.
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This might have been my first poem. Or at any rate, somebody's first poem. Rather, it would be more accurate to say that this is about somebody's first poem.
© 2006 - 2024 Kittybriton
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