Shelley's Steely Soul

I swear by Shelley’s steely soul ,

as poets, we have ups and downs.

Some lows, some highs, some times of trouble

(some bastard’s bound to burst our bubble!)

I vow, sometimes, we’re high as steeple.

and poets can be placid people,

until some sad, sick sons on bitches

unpick from poet’s cloak the stitches!

I say, we’re only killing time,

composing raw and raucous rhyme,

 yet, sorrow in our souls is sowing

a mustard seed of faith that’s growing!

I swear by Shelley’s steely soul

As poets, we’re transparent people,

with no one’s mind we plan on messing;

believe us, we’re hell-bent on blessing!