Poetic License
What makes a story a poem
A paragraph a verse
I trust I'll find the answer
Before I'm in my hearse
But if you are the man, Sir
Who can provide the answer
Tell me when it happened
That a verse became a stanza
But if you are a poet
Then you will surely know it
For all your lines will rhyme
Except for when they don't
Now I've just confused myself
By using that word 'don't'
Cos I can't find a single word
That rhymes, so I wont
You see, I'm quite prepared to gamble
That when one takes a lonesome amble
And you're a poet it's allowed
To be described as 'as a cloud'
It's like I'm mounted 'pon a horse
And wouldn't you just know it
My steed has trod a wayward course
That's fodder for a poet
But of late the world of art
Has been blown open wide
It seems that art can be a cow
... In formaldehyde
But poems are a different art
And surely even me
Can speak a little jauntily
And call it poetry
So here I sit with pen in hand
The pen is metaphorical
I'm gonna type my poem now
And it shall be historical
A classic of the genre
My ode shall be Imperical
But seasoned poets may proclaim
My efforts are hysterical
By lamplight lit, my ode was writ
Yet no man cared a lot for it
Pen raised, indignantly I hissed
Then I shall write...
My shopping list!
5 November 2018
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