Monday, February 6, 2012

We mean what we say.

There aren't a lot of poems now
that've avoided being written.
From birds and bees
to death and trees
it's all been sorely beaten.

Around and round the mulberry bush
from London to the bay.
Every powerful prose
and bleeding rose
has made it to the page.

So a writer now is left with none
but topics much compiled.
All good prayers've been said
and such lines have been read
that us crafters are left with the bile.

But if we're going to take the time right now
to lament the old clichés.
Like good grapes in a bunch
or that wine with your lunch
Truth in writing is enjoyed by the case.

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