Category: A Writer’s Life

I read a poem The other day, It didn’t rhyme, To my dismay. You ask me how Was one to know It was a poem? They told me so. Scribed in lines Both crude and terse, They said that it Was called free verse. Why it was verse Was hard to see But one could […]

I just wrote my sixth book. It’s great to be alive! I’ll dedicate it to my family, They bought the other five.

Yesterday, at half past two, I ran right out of things to do. Although you think of it a crime, I sat me down to force some rhyme. When Ogden did it, I am told, All his poems were quickly sold. But you told me in terms so certain, My attempts are truly hurtin’. You […]