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The Poet, I
The Poet, I
Just how do random words, now tell me, turn into a line?
And lines into I don't know what is one more than a nine?
Wait, what?! No! Focus! Hocus-pocus lines such make a verse,
Which then certainly, I believe, is what creates a curse?
The curses constitute a book, the books then library;
Can someone please explain to me this witchcraft-wizardry?
How can just something so abrupt be so significant?
How can expressions senseless such be so magnificent?
Well, I suppose they're blended by some mighty alchemist
From potions and concoctions, brewed up with a sparkling twist!
These spells are crafted with perfection and with utmost care!
If yet your face has not a smile times two then that's not fair!
"Some things come natural, some learnt through practice over time;
Some test your patience, sometimes things though magically
rhyme!
Some turn out to be ugly, but some turn the tides around;
Some take you forward, bring some back, no doubt the world is round!"
"Some things are meant for you, to see, to hear, to feel, to do,
That once are hazy inspiration, twice a direct cue.
Some things are out of reach, some though you need to let go of;
Some better are forgotten, but some never do go off."
Let's try a whim, and be a team, and add ice-creams to pi,
And jump and skip and roll and leap, and vibe until we die!
How many hours do cats meow for? Four less than a day!
If yet your face has not a smile times four then not okay!
Such jolly words, such jocund lines, such jaunty verses make;
Jovial such curses, and some joyful norms to break;
Such jabberwocky makes sense when are Jedis on a spree;
My account - my book; and StoryMirror - library!
