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Slaughtered

Oh such sadness
Oh such deep remorse
The old poet has lost the rhyme
For him there’s no recourse
In vino veritas
Has left for brighter shores
The laundry needs folding
Our simile likes whatever’s yours
Oh my my, O mercy me
Here comes that Kentwood child
Scrumptious in all her filigree
Goodness gracious, why must she sashay so wild
The taliban slaughtered some high schoolers
Six o’clock news as old as Cain and Abel
Want to understand the matter black of it all—
Best lay all your cards on the table
Oh dearie dear me
One’s mere life is no bull
9-1-1 has lost your address—
Hope your unsurance is paid in full

Am I Close

I would like to be a poet
Am I getting close?
Metaphors mixed and tenses slashed
Imagery by a nose
Broken hearts and thanes slain
Damsels worshipped ever again and again
Perhaps a cheery rhymester
Bereft of similes orange
Sunsets abandoned
By courageous estrange
Does my poesy suffer to suffice?
Are you moved to a nether coast?
Or do you need more fodder
To render the lonely heart closed
Pay for my lines
Don’t you dare wonder?
Most of the good stuff
Passes thru the penchant blunder
Like me stuff—
Or turn to a kindred page
Drinking the lines ethereal
Is all the millennial rage