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Poem

I think that I shall pen a tome
an ink stained wandering lengthy poem
that questions all that is and ain’t
that holds you still like drying paint

A brood of words undisciplined
gutted fish no longer finned
thrashing on the sands of time
mouths agape in search for rhyme

I must confess I love the drama
so shun the use of every comma
and periods that single dot
an endless sentence never sought

to break its wave upon the beach
unveiling useless parts of speech
to drop a line and without fail
use the Thesaurus as its bail

yet I must cut this tome quite short
as I am running out of thought
and stories long and endless seem
to lure me to another dream

thus I apologize to those who muster
all their thoughts into a cluster
serve them to us on full platters
to let us know poetry matters

John G. Lawless
©7/26/2022

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