Just That Archaic Poet Poet Rhyme

Persona Undecided

Whom shall I be today?
I've not the slightest clue
A child with his toys to play,
Or someone else--brand new?

A brat to never be forgiven:
To never see the sights of Heaven;
Never join my Christian brethren?
Oh, I pray it isn't true!

You, kindly nurse, my lips, please moisten
With whisky rye; I've picked my poison

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Delysia Hendricks October 26, 2013 at 2:21 PM I know this is supposed to be a sad read but I see a funny side to it. Maybe I need a doctor? Now I set me down to dine a // a plate o' tates; a tot o' wine // you have the tates; I'll have the tot // not near enough; I need a bot // but please not wine and neither tea // could you spare some rye whiskey? Just That Archaic Poet October 26, 2013 at 3:09 PM Love your poetic replies, D. You always amuse me. Thanks for stopping by and for the review :)

Destiny Jordan September 13, 2013 at 7:17 AM I love this poem :) very wonderous indeed! Just That Archaic Poet September 13, 2013 at 10:00 AM Compliments very much appreciated, Destiny :)

Richard Lamoureux September 11, 2013 at 9:07 AM This is excellent, sad but excellent none the less. Just That Archaic Poet September 11, 2013 at 11:53 AM Thanks, Richard. You know me: ol' sad sack and "Gloomy Gus" lol. I can poke fun at myself because I know the sense of melancholy permeates many of my pieces. I appreciate the feedback; hope you are well :)