A few thoughts upon my poems
A lot of my poems
don’t really have a raisin d’être;
are not rhyming poems,
have poor, or, at the very least, inconsistent mêtre;
lack any visually pleasing anaesthetics,
and, seemingly, impart little or no peas of wisdom.
Earls, might have rhymed with that,
if I hadn’t used a Malapropism.
Some might say,
‘Your words are like the diamonds that one finds in one’s socks – imaginings of the mind.’
I am not blind to my failings…
bland to my railings…
or, blonde to my routes.
‘He who laughs last, often missed the point of the joke.’
I do not smoke.
Nor drink of the alcoholic beverage.
I merely think;
it gives me leverage.