a little more lighthearted...

3+4/2/11
Poetry ringing in my head
Why is ever poet
I love dead?

The poets of the time
of thy, thee and wilt
Left us huge shoes to fill.

The ink were wetter,
The words so clever,
so so much better,
A style recaptured never!

Huge feet and feather pens
The library of poets will never end
They will forever leave a challenge

The time of such rhyming
such impeccable timing
the time of why’ing,
will never die.

Poetry ringing in my head
why is every poet
I love dead?
The answer is – the old stuff is the best!