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