Perfect

 

 


The time has come to now compose,

Exalted and too rhythmic prose,

Now I've the time to smell the rose,

My muse in perfect rhyme hath froze!


I come to paper, thoughts inspired,

By nights well-slept and mind conspired,

To tell myself I've just been fired,

From daily grind that found me tired.


This little verse is tongue-in-cheek:

An exercise to fill the week.

No dictionary do I seek.

To rhyme so well's not for the meek.


So when is it that I get paid?

For one so talented, it's said.

Pro-bono you are entertained.

My poverty is not yet feigned.


Humility I feel full-time,

When I have only perfect rhyme,

And days through which to hope and pine,

For soon the fortunes to be mine.


The thousands won in contests are,

A dream from which I have been barred.

A perfect rhyme, it does not mar

The winners' verse I've read, so far.


Such poems devoid of structure olde,

They need to be so free and bold

To be the source of poets' gold:

The product which is bought and sold.


I guess for now I'll have my fun.

Indulge me now, I'm almost done:

Though money I have not yet won,

They're many more where this came from!








Comments:
 
Rinskinski   Rinskinski wrote
on 10/22/2009 5:19:43 AM
Absolutely brilliant. The subtle humour really captured me!

Michele
Poetry
Other
writing Michele
"...a poem a day, keeps the shrink away!"

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Rating: 4.0/10

Synopsis
A little poet's humor from "Ink Melodies"--published last summer. Changed a couple of words--again. I do hope the ratings slasher can restrain himself this time--he's getting rather tiresome.
Published Date
6/15/2009 12:00:00 AM
Published In
Ink Melodies
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