The stick in the mud
by cricketjeff on February 26, 2009. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
In long and lazy meter I repose;
Contented in the comfort of the rhyme.
Though I may find modernity in time
Before my ageing bones can decompose.
I have no greater wisdom to dispose –
I cannot push my thoughts beyond sublime.
So I must strive to make my verses chime
With all the dreams a lover may propose.
Some say iambs can form a rigid cage,
Confining and conventional in tone,
They are a form with which I can engage
And maybe even make them seem my own.
The Petrach never rhymed his final pair –
Perhaps I’m not incorrigibly square.