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Literature Text
Nobody else writes poems like I do.
The fixed-form poet's art is old and dry.
It limits creativity? Not true.
But yes, perhaps its day is long gone by.
Oh wait--there are yet writers springing free
On heels of metered verse and rhyming ends.
Alright: nobody writes in verse like we.
We write like madmen, leaving be those trends
In poetry contemporary. This:
The art of the archaic is our love.
And yet we write in newer forms and kiss
The modern in our own way. Read thereof
As I do, and bear witness to myself
That no one writes like anybody else.
The fixed-form poet's art is old and dry.
It limits creativity? Not true.
But yes, perhaps its day is long gone by.
Oh wait--there are yet writers springing free
On heels of metered verse and rhyming ends.
Alright: nobody writes in verse like we.
We write like madmen, leaving be those trends
In poetry contemporary. This:
The art of the archaic is our love.
And yet we write in newer forms and kiss
The modern in our own way. Read thereof
As I do, and bear witness to myself
That no one writes like anybody else.
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Nice