(April 25, 2018)
it’s so hard to find
many words when tried which rhyme*
‘specially this clime!
- (“Write me a poem with rhymes,” said Lady Yassy. My iambit – iambic -, trochee, and even non-Spencerian nor Petrarchian – not to mention Brownings (both) – what next? Emily or, gasp! – Joyce (Kilmer, that is)? Perhaps Yates or Schubert even if the rhyme is not in the doggerel but the music. So, dear Lady, suffer this one above as but a prepaid installment on a poor plan…please. I shall quarry anew more flat rocks upon which I shall chip and scrape and chisel away. It’s cool going on soon-hot and the mugs still slither by air awaiting Friday’s promised spitting contest above. So, if I produceth not the ‘quested rime, recall, dear one, I have not been ‘rested for plucking quills from an albatross – yet!)