Well, I think it's plain to see that poetry can be both beneficial AND detrimental, all in one fell swoop. Thanks to my previous heinous examples, no-one in HISTORY need repeat my haiku-limeric meshing experiments. See? I have already left my feeble mark on mankind. O Joy~ Strange, I think i feel another taste of poetry at my lips.
Oh dear. I believe I shall take a small break, come back with some hot chicken & rice soup, and see if I can swoosh that taste right outta my mouth.
Oh Dear ~
It isn't going away.
Mighty tasty soup, though. hmmmmmm
I know a place wherein resides
a well-placed poem, & besides,
some haiku-limeric mess derides.
O Constant Poem rule divine,
If I seek thee not, I am bovine,
therefore here-after I shall be thine.
I'll falter not, and recklessly rhyme,
nay, nay, I say, ~Pendamic Time~
From here on out, O Thee I'll mime.
For who can say of those wise old fathers
that made up poem rules bothers
to lift the chaos souls of others.
For from continent to continent
those poem styles seem quite content
to stand alone & represent.
So I suppose, in the end,
Unless I Deaf to be pretend,
I cannot mesh them without end.
And thus this little poem goes,
and yes it warms me to my toes,
oh hang it.... that's the soup, I knows.
