Musings On Poetry

Looking for a punch line, the plot of thought was lost but strong was call of rhythm, though it came at the cost, of a soiled algorithm. Looking for a punch line, although irrelevant, spontaneity died and as oft is the case, dweller of our heart sighed. Looking for a punch line, a forceful quietus, lazy reader addressed but those who’d feel the mist, shuddered at notes compressed. Looking for a punch line, for that feel good factor, metaphors are recalled but flow of soul’s fragrance, inevitably stalled.