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When writing poetry, sometimes one comes along that just delivers a smile each time you read the daggone thing. What began as a statement on my inability to conjure a decent rhyme, ended up a fun little poke at my writing psyche. For those who write enough words to fill the Grand Canyon in a year, I’m sure you’ll get a little tickle at the corners of your soul…

Pissed Off Poetry

I search for images I’ll never find
I cranny out vestiges of cracks in my mind
I struggle to winnow every detail
I search, I cranny, I struggle, I fail

My mind sows its own oats
My mind stretches reason
My mind knows no boundaries
No end and no season

But for the words it so ably procures,
For love of the craft each finger endures
Insults of rhyme in each new line
Ineptitude, fallacies, ownership – mine.

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