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The Lost Poet |
(a tag poem, subject provided by justinoldhippie@aol.com)
He floundered among the sonnets
and avoided villanelles like poison,
but ballads trapped him and took him away
to foreign lands and wild melodies.
He didn't know where he was;
he was lost in a ballad that went on and on,
verse after rhyming verse, no point, no resolution,
and rhymes like love/dove/above and lots of "blue sky"
and "shining stars," until he was dizzy with similes.
He looked for a way back to sanity, some road,
some words that would make sense of it all,
but the haikus kept coming and the tankas spurned
his efforts to pull free. He was truly lost,
lost in the myriad paths of poetry, with no way out.
copyright 2003
Ursula T.
Gibson |
