Read my Prose


When will someone read my prose

More succulent than the English rose

All they read is my poetry

Scribblings of obscurity


When will someone heal my woes

A ghoulish thing that hatefully glows

The anode and cathode of my battery

Are rusted and weary and I cease to be


This verse approaches daily new lows

Debauchered as a man in pantyhose

When I rhyme, the meter is wee

When I’m rhythmic, rhyme has no glee


So open your mind and just enclose

My essays where the north wind blows

And sweeps aside the fallacy

And phantoms and fools of calumny


What will I relate, disclose

When will mountains be meadows

What truth torn to heresy

What lie will rise to verity


I will write and I won’t pose

I’ll shout my sermon in bellicose blows

With tenacity and temerity

I stalk the gang plank to mortality


Copyright, David Gottfried, 2013


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