Why I write poems.

Would many make their mark
Without some creative spark
Which fires out of order
Why, look it’s a disorder!

Piecing words together
Is often said to measure
The depth of thought you reach
And is graded by a beech.

Anagrams are foolish things
The mathematician always brings
To take the tasty flavor
Out of all the words we savor.

Spelling bees just test the rate
At which you can regurgitate
Never asked a definition
Sentences?  That’s for perdition!

Hooking kids on phonics
Taking dealers making chronics
What good is saying “Constitution”
Knowing not of Revolution?

Words were always meant to bravely follow in a line,
Making many levels rather than to just define
The dictionary definition.  Not an absolute,
By sound alone what does it mean to have a looted lute?


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