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First Poem

I’ve started to try my hand at rhyme; it’s been a way to spend this time,
I like to read Donne and Leigh but the Metaphysical isn’t me,
I’m sure that’s proper poetry,
But aspiring to their wit no doubt,
I’ll use quick doggerel to spit it out,
To find a way to ventilate,
Without the patience to concentrate or contemplate,
The meaning of my fate,
So rhyming couplets will have to do,
To squeeze my minds anguish into,
Until the day comes when I can find,
Descriptive narrative, prose all kind,
Lines said neater, and a smoother metre,
Who knows flourishing and maybe sweeter,
To talk of tree’s, sea’s and soliloquy’s on bended knee’s,
But until then for better or worse, I will rehearse,
Excoriating and unsightly verse,
Terse, coarse and with no remorse.