The Poet

The poet is a creature fey
Who dreams up clever rhymes all day
And always uses words outré
          To woo his lover.

He walks upon iambic feet,
Inflects his speech with dactyls neat;
His heart throbs with trochaic beat
          And leaps in spondee.

Beware of amphibrachic smiles
And whispered catalectic wiles;
A muse unwary he beguiles
          With every sonnet.

If he should offer you amor,
Heroic couplets by the score,
Poetic licenses galore–
          Give him caesura.

by Matthew Hanna

Copyright © 2011 by the author

May be copied for church or personal use. All other rights reserved.

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