Poetry Here (Mostly)

Preparing Poetry

Bees, please, you must fly out of my bonnet,
I’ve relied too much on your honeycomb.
A sugary sonnet, I don’t want it,
but can’t break habit til temptation’s gone.

Bees, too often I’ve let your syrup slip
sticky slippers on my poetic feet,
cloy-clad, they do not walk, they only sit;
swarm away bees and sting me when we meet.

Bees now flown elsewhere to do their buzzing,
poems unsweetened taste bland, without spice.
Perhaps, hot chillies so my words start cussing,
Asian, Cajun verbs enhance plain white rice.

Took off my bonnet, put on a chef’s hat,
cooked sonnet spaghetti, sauce this and that.

Comments on: "Preparing Poetry" (1)

  1. amazing one elaine, really life is bland without sweetnes, cursing (bitterness) can never be suffered for long.

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