• I think it's sad that poetry -
    Supposed to be the most thee -
    Has been defiled and desecrated.
    The practice goes on, un-debated...

    We do this art a great, hate-wrong
    We write in prose, yet call it song.
    Assonance, alliteration -
    Left to time's obliteration -
    We do not use reiteration.

    Our lines are sentences cut short.
    Paragraphs called stanzas?! Thwart
    This evil practice. Make it good
    Once more before it's lost in wood

    And wilderness that knows no bounds.
    We must keep track - like sharp bloodhounds -
    Of this dear trade we call our own,
    But act as if we've never known -
    As if poetry we've outgrown.