Forgotten Ground Regained
What a Perfect Poem
A sample of the flyting form once beloved for insult and abuse
Pal, pardon me, but your polished verselike a bright, burnished mirror just blanks out my vision.When you take your turn next I trust you'll be terse --just swerve round and swing into sweeping revision.No lemon or lime could make my lips pursewhen meter meets matter in mad imprecisionlike a perfectly patterned poetic hearse.Let it go to ground and its grave conditionin time
will surpass the power of parasites and mold. Both parrots and poets can prattle and rhyme and bang to a beat, if I may be so bold -- but the metronome's music is much more sublime.
Copyright © Paul D Deane, 2000