A 31-Footle Poem
Sherlock:
“The clock
Did chime
The time
At which
My snitch
Appeared
And teared
With claims
The game’s
Afoot.
I took
A look:
No crook,
No crime.
It’s time,
Watson.
We’re done."
Watson:
“You stun
Me, Holmes!
Your poems,
Egad!
Are bad!
Their rhymes
At times
Are lame,
And shame
Your name
And fame.
To write
Such tripe,
Such verse
Perverse,
Will not
A lot
Improve
My groove!!”
“Doctor,
Abhor
My verse,
(Perverse
It be),
But see
That you
Eschew
Verbose
Ripostes!
Though I'm
In rhyme
Abstruse,
Deduce
I must.
I trust
That you
See through
My verse
Rehearsed
To find
My mind
And what
I thought.”
Copyright © Jerome Malenfant | Year Posted 2016
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