Nary, nary nor, the other one's the snore.
It's been said you'll want to stay on shore to
make or break, well the dairy will take
no more of cream or other liquids,
lying about I thought you were there
for sleep, for schlepping?
And it's not the other, nor, the beginning
or tortured lines, they lie near dead or
dying to sleep, yet again, you missed
the last publication date, and trying to
fake a calving incident, perchance the
mother would not notice the scoundrel.
Taking liberties with milk are you, not really
the best at shepherding old ladies, across
streets paved with rain? Or, break into
dance when nothing much fits inside
your head, often as the next curb hits you,
slaps upside a scraper, a misnomer.
Daring do is not the same as neither, nor
is it the last we'll see of wells, so deep,
so lack a modifier that it will simply pounce
perchance to make petrified wood, wobbly
in prose profound, perfectly suited, the
suit is big, is something, but surely not a bore.
© 2015 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.