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Poetry Magnum Opus

Word Play (some strong language)

Frank E Gibbard

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Frank E Gibbard

My version of a sonnet is fourteen lines

of words, as white powder's not my bag.

They may get up formal noses at times

if some syllables or feet are apt to drag.

Its rhymes conform to a simple pattern,

so a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g for me.

Maybe you see, I'm a b. literary slattern,

a c. d. p.o.e.t. I just c things alternately.

Eeh, f.u. O.K. I'm from E. L. E. G.B. U.K.,

fuck form indeed I won't play their game,

whose strictures suck, sticklers go away!

who'd confine words to an abacus frame.

Free verse I say, so write what will you please,

meters r running, grab a cab, it's yours to seize.


[(footnote - a literary joke - "E. L." above stands for Ealing, London)]

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