I wake early in the morning
And start to play with words
In my head
Again.
Can’t help myself:
It just happens.
Words are instruments in my orchestra.
Let composition commence!
Alliteration adds to my message
As assonance drops a sonic bong.
Let’s add an occasional rhyme
To help the verse along.
Music from the Muses
Makes me swoon,
Then I click my cursor
And sound-like words
On a mat appear.
Please don’t groan
Or even murmur.
I hear the sparrows
As they twitter and chirp,
While I just sit here
And belch and burp.
I must be addicted
To poetry.
But all I can say is,
That suits me.
Paul
Butters
©
PB 31\3\2019.
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