A few thoughts upon my poems

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.’

Others wouldn’t.

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.

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