Freelancing, Miserable Mime

Words that echo the sublime
Each syllable resounds a doleful chime
Accentuated by a bleak, monotonous rhyme
That skews the cadence and scuttles the time
Words that filter through, then prime
Heart's engine to slowly pine
Fueled by structural anomalies; sick, semantical serpentine
Break lines that throttle, then realign
Soul's transmission shifts in gear to divine
Sorrow and suffering in every byline
Each strut, an awkward bounce that jars the dragline
Leaky, cracked manifold manifest in every squeaky note, sign
Incongruent parts renovated to shock by design
Tales-end, toxic fumes will every literary splice twine
Finish will be sealed with a lackluster shine
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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Johnson Avatar
November 20, 2010 at 9:40 AM
Well I see from this poem that you are not one of those poets that stood in need of my advice. Glad to find you. I will seek you out more often. Love, Joyce
Mehta Avatar
November 19, 2010 at 1:13 PM
I had been once into it, years back and I know what it is, Stephen
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