Oh, That Most Accursed One
An unacceptable poetess,she.
How dare she pen of her reality!
We, in the upper clouds of poetry,
Not glad of her beingn present here, eeks!.
Can't we just lock the golden poetry door,
And bid her farewell, alas evermore?
She will never be as grand as we,
Who swing from the officious Poetry Soup Tree!
Off to our unicorns and grand delusions we go.
With lovely , faithful muses, in tow.
Someone please lock the door on her,or
Let her freeze in the ice, cold snow!
We ignore her ilk the best we can.
And curse the heavens,when with
POTD's she received, with honors?
Much to our Poetry Soup Tree horrors?
We punish her by not commenting.
Yet her desire to pen is grossly unrelenting.
Muses, please remove this horror from us.
Oh, how she doth so greatly bore us!
10/13/2020
Opus # 5
10/12/2020
Opus# 4
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