Verse

Verse is flowing, slowly growing,

like the starlight, gently glowing.

Noble, as the gods, all-knowing.

Tall as grass in need of mowing,

deep as winter season’s snowing.

On my sleeve, like first love, showing.

Verse: a coloured rainbow sowing

mysteries beyond all knowing.

 

Verse is pouring, never boring,

‘gainst the vicious always warring.

Rose of romance rhyme’s restoring.

Rhyming's like the ocean roaring,

with the skylark sweetly soaring.

Woos the goddess I’m adoring.

Like a slumbered sleeper snoring,

vulgar voices is ignoring.

 

Verse is weaving, words achieving

wonder with her lyrics leaving

lovely lines to lift your grieving.

Comforting and gently cleaving

to your heart, in chest, that’s heaving.

Verse will bless with undeceiving.

Beautiful, like faith, believing;

Dutiful, but never peeving.

 

Verse is classic; teems like traffic,

older than that Age: Jurassic.

Sultry, sapphic, sweet seraphic,

torn from hearts like tears so tragic.

Verse is honest, never graphic,

numinous, mixed up with magic;

sweetly signs, is autographic.

Picture perfect: Photographic.

 

Verse is moving, graceful, grooving?

Free – so mother’s disapproving.

Verse, it always needs improving;

edit it, make it earth-moving.

Carved in stone, it’s too unmoving.

Rigor, therefore, needs removing.

Rigid rhyme is forced, thus proving

certain poets need reproving!

 

Verse is vital, vim and vigour,

all-important, so de rigeur.

Precious metal for gold digger,

fraction you can easy figure.

Verse can make you smile and snigger.

“Tiger” tames and turns to “Tigger.”

Rhyme's revolver’s touchy trigger

blows a hole, than bullet bigger.

 

 Verse will shoot you down like gunner;

she will stop you; she’s a stunner,

bombshell blonde like Eva Brunner.

Tanned and tasty, see her sun her

in bikini, gods have spun her.

No man now would ever shun her.

Only one though ever won her:

Adonais, Grecian runner.