Petunia In An Onion Patch
PETUNIA IN AN ONION PATCH
You’re always talking incessantly about beauty
Or whinging about life’s sadness and duty!
Just cant stand you people called poets
I’d sooner listen to my horse chomping oats
And your so-called rhyme schemes are a joke
As if the writer was just out of coke -
A bit like Coleridge writing Kubla Khan -
Now there was a high-flying man!
Your poems oughta stay on the off-ramp wall
And never grace the written page at all
But now and again a real versifier comes along
Not simply capable of penning words for a song;
She has wisdom and laughter in each line
And the taste of her rhyme is fine wine,
One moment raising my spirit in cheers
Then swaying my soul, and pouring out tears.
Her subtle profusion of tenderness coy
And her child-like wild soul’s unending joy,
Are my inspiration to go on and write
Another admiring poetic effort tonight.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written for and entered in
Vienna Bombardieri’s Contest Let me have it then kiss my petunia
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