Oh let’s just call it poetry
And let it go at that
And end the endless quarrel
This hissy hissy spat
For if it be – it is
And if it ain’t – it “cain’t”
Measure the inspection
When mundane’s considered quaint
Can it be a sonnet
Without a Shakespeare bonnet
Can it be “real” verse
When laced with idle curse
Or worse – a lover’s rhyme
Of roses lost in time
For it would seem the writer
Could have pulled the strings much tighter
Presented stanza’ed ugliness
In phrases somewhat lighter
But then again it’s filtered through
My mind and all its ucky goo
And there it struggles hopelessly
Demanding that I set it free
From what the words have found in me
Oh, let’s just call it poetry
And let it go at that!!!