Bubba's Poem Barn 4
Well, I got this aggitation
Running round in my head
Like old man armadillo
In the Missus’ flower beds
You see, a poem’s got a form
Like a critter’s got legs
And some go for live birth
While others lay eggs
Now the Lord creates them all,
Yes, each in its kind
But he gave us a name
That he wants us to mind
When you’re raising your boy
You don’t call him a horse
Lest he get in Ma’s biscuits
Eats ‘em all in due course
No, he’s a boy or a man
Let him know who he is
So that he won’t be failing
When he gets a pop quiz
It’s the same with these poems
Each of its own form
And that form’s got a name
Keeps ‘em cozy and warm
See a haiku’s not a sonnet,
An ABC’s not an ode,
Some say prose is not poetry
We’re not going down that road.
If you can’t make your mind up
Go with Free Verse or Rhyme
There’s even I Don’t Know
If you’d just take the time
You can usually tell
If you count up the legs
If you don’t know what those are
There’s a question that begs…
Heck, you might even try out
A new form or two
Cuz there’s dogs that still hunt
That are older than you
Some’d say I’ve gone to meddling
Getting up in your face
So I’ll ease back to the barn
Gotta clean up the place
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