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In This Poetic Intent Herein I've Partly Failed

Upon this fairly scribal yet oversize, Very squarish or rectangular tablet, Do I scribble and scrawl these very words, And those of the completeness of at least a brace, A twain, a pair of poems, though These are, after a fashion, hardly meet. Albeit, they are not so ill-fitting for all of that. They are good poems, those I've today And herein written; Yet to themselves, they ascribe all Manner of different motives, Emotions and motifs. Yet I purpose not hereby and herewith to delineate All the consequent, attendant minutiae compassing those Works; no, my purpose herein is to Fashion a poem much less circumspect, Summary, and oddly essayistic Than quondam ones, yet in so doing I've partly failed-no matter. Yet this poem and those indited formerly, They weren't inscribed beneath some large, Tyrannous, blindingly refulgent Saharan sun; Nor were they beneath the caliginous caul of the night Scrawled hereon, nay; It was my oddest delight to compose these at a time of day Quite interstitial to those abovementioned. Yet some inky darkness even now depends And lends its crepuscular, darksome weight to the entire tableau: That of a poet-writer over his tablet, Head bent low. Yet, a dichotomy, I find, crops up Herein, as a more modern meaning of tablet coexists With that upon which I actually, diligently write This: Which is merely a glorified book of notes.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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Date: 12/14/2018 12:40:00 PM
Hello Douglas Cate, a great write on this poem. have a nice day my friend.
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De Beaulieu Avatar
Darlene De Beaulieu
Date: 12/22/2018 1:59:00 PM
Welcome to Poetry Soup. Merry Christmas and a Happy new Year.
Date: 12/28/2017 1:18:00 PM
Youvr not failed at all...
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