An Ancient Poet's Muse, Just a Playing
An Ancient Poet's Muse, Just A Playing
Snow outside, was whitest white, so I wrote
Cream and butter, sisters on fine tables.
Sang I, out of tune, nobody took note
Now sure, there are true heroes in fables.
Rain outside, was wettest wet, so I penned
Coffee and donuts, brothers in pleasing.
Cried I, cast thee that hard stone, I have sinned
Not really, just old poet teasing!
Sleet outside, was coldest cold, so I spun
Bake me no pies, I tell thee no true lies.
Screamed I, no fresh bread, too tired to run
Why such downpours from big belching skies?
Snow outside, was whitest white, so I wrote
Ancient poet's words, hope thee took kind note!
Robert J. Lindley, 1-08-2017
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 112
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