Words
As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, and feeling
And having got exceedingly drunk today
I write this poem with my head reeling
My words shine not on this poet’s page
Nor can I find any words in this present age
To explicitly explain what I want to say
Because I’ve drank more than my share this day
This is the usual method but surely not mine
Tis not the regularity of my wordy design
My friends read my works and try to control my affairs
While I care not about my own domestic cares
The arts, at least all such as could be said
Are gently written today by my tremulously
Frail hands!
Copyright © Janice Scott | Year Posted 2008
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