FOWC with Fandango: Poetic

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I am the proof that poetry has to rhyme
even if ’twas brillig when the slithy toves do slime
I wandered lonely as a cloud
Hosts of golden daffodils were not a crowd
Half a league onward into the valey of death
How is this supposed to be poetry
When they are taking their last breath
There is a woman tending a grave
belonging to Mad Carew
Couldn’t she just tell us
does it have to rhyme in Katmandu
Once upon a midnight dreary
Writing poetry was making me weary
To be or not to be, that was the question
but I forgot the answer, anyone have a suggestion?
So do not stand at my blog and weep
I am not there but having a sleep
The tyger might be burning bright
But I cannot see him, it is not yet night
I wanted to write and rhyme so original
but the only word I found was aboriginal.

FOWC with Fandango: Poetic

9 thoughts on “FOWC with Fandango: Poetic

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