There’s something strange about my poems

It happens every time

That when I sit to write my poems

They all seem to have a couple strategically placed words that sound pretty much the same.

Some say I should open up

And try to write some prose

I don’t see why in my business

They have to stick their breathing apparatus centrally located on the face between the eyes and the mouth.

But just to show I’m versatile

I’ll give their prose a chance

I will play their little game

I’ll do their song and rhythmic bodily movements sometimes choreographed and often to music.

As you can see this poem here

Has neither rhyme nor meter

And I did it on my own

For I am no person who uses dishonest and deceptive means for personal gain often at another’s expense.

This prose is not so difficult

It comes to me with ease

They who mocked me once before

Will now bow on their bending joints located between the calves and the thighs on the leg.

But now I think I’ve had enough

This prose is not for me

I think I will turn again

To writing poetry.