A Poetry Souper On Planet Mars
A Poetry Souper, seeing bright stars,
Grabbed his PC and headed for Mars.
He’d make some dimes by writing rhymes,
Selling them to the New Mars Times.
Traveling through the ethereal blue,
With revved up rockets, his fervor grew.
Orbiting the moon to pick up speed,
He’d bust his buttons for this brave deed.
He saw fluffy clouds for God’s gentle feet,
And wondered if galaxies were places to meet.
He visualized skipping through outer space,
Dancing with angels, but couldn’t keep pace.
He thought of Mars, as candidly prime,
Poetry Soup’s outpost, so proudly sublime!
Thousands of Martians were quick to enroll,
Clamoring to setup new poetry goals.
Little red men, each sporting a grin,
Their three-fingered fisties bearing a pen.
Female Martians seemed to insist,
On whipping out sonnets with Shakespearian twists.
The red planet shining bright in the night,
Beckons to poets seeing its sight.
Schedule your flight, and do it right quick,
For poem palaver, it does a neat trick.
Copyright © James Tate | Year Posted 2015
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