A cloud about poems

Poetry is all well and good,

when all is said and done,

and where there’s muck there’s brass,,

and words don’t come easy,

peasy.

Every poem has a silver lining,

and blue-sky thinking

can often provide

the basis for an airy poem.

When the sky is limiting,

and the birds fly through,

just to peck holes in your construction,

who is to say that a rhyme is a crime?

Who? said the owl of Oswestry.

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