Not bringing along my tool
Has me made a Big fool:
A breaker of workers First Rule
And copyist of The Empty Mue
That should back turn to school…
So unprofessional an omission
That I be quick about its admission
But here I am rather cool,
Placidly surveying a greenish pool
While I had all deserved but a stool
And time to over spirogyra drool.
Growing up that age,we‘ve grown out
Of mothers bosom into streets,
With sown leather that bounces
Up and down among us,
Gone far and wide, swimming in lakes
Of Spirogyra green and tea brown water,
Caught the silvery tilapia and slippery heels as game,
And sold them for bread,
Self inflicted hungered, afflicted;
Though large ladles were waiting,
The rowdy rascal would returned
With impunity and stumped to their leftover;
And Shepherds echoed and neigh expressed
Our wandering out and about.
Now that we 've outgrown,
We have left such things that made a lad again,
And looked toward the future
When we would be father-like
To little ones,
We shall spit out and bellow nothing to naughty
While to them the beds they would lay,
And dose and dream of carbuncles, sapphire and crystal rocks,
Floating oarless in the breeze of aquamarine riches
And falling into bottomless abyss,
Till clock crow it is soon morning,
And woke with tears all stick up to faces,
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.