Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Day 12

Day 12 4/12/11
A form poem
An Anti-form Poem


Thirty (a lune poem)

Same as yesterday
My dismay
I'm exactly the same.



Lune You Ruin

You strap me down
Box me in
I wasn't quite sure
Of where to begin
How do you capture
The most intimate things
When there are only
13 syllables for me to bring.


Form is a Snore

Never before
Has it been such a bore
To compose a poem
With wit, poise, and flow.
Oh wait that just didn't work
I thought rhyming would
be such a perk.
Irk!
This poem I must shirk.




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