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