Mister Period
Some people still call me, “Dot.”
Some laugh and label me, “Spot.”
Let them have a silly jest
For when they need the very best,
They’ll no longer think me weird,
But remember I am Mr. Period.
I’ve been ‘round longer than comma
Who pauses to stir up drama.
We hang out, just not as friends,
But to support alphabet blends.
To rile up comma, call him coma.
He’ll run for his diploma.
I am speck, small, dark and round.
I possess the power of sound;
I say stop, be still and breathe.
I fulfill this need for free.
Make no mistake, it is my job
To seek and maim worded blob.
Not only am I the rarity
Who gives sentences clarity;
I show my generosity
To non-profit emphasis charity
And anyone who has a need
To nurse sentences that bleed.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
