Dear Poeta,
I suppose I should be studying
But instead I write vain thoughts
Sweet Iambic pentameter
One-two-three-four-
rest
One-two-three-five-
rest
Iambic stress
   Iamb stressed

We all wish we were poets
Smouldering
Forgotten passions
With Deep
Intensity
Selfish wanderings of a restless soul
Cascading over the cricket shell
Empty yet humming
Delirious yet craving
Societys
Blessing

Mia Mya oh sweet Mryia
Walking down the apple path
A gust of wind
And now she broke
Mia Mya oh please Mryia
Skipping to her mushroom house
A gust of wind
And now she's lost
Mia Mya oh no Mryia
Diving in the acid pool
A gust of wind
And now she's gone.

I
h
a
v
e
f
e
e
l
i
n
g
s
that
form
thou
ghts,
that
form
words,
that          form
sente            ­     nces,
that                       form
rope,                         which
ties                               itself
into a                            noose.
Your                         ­     words
are also                    a rope,
that saves me from
drowning.

Her name sounds like butterscotch
And she moves like a fairie
Whispering of whiskey kisses
And cooing like a songbird
Her laughter echoes in my ears
When I call her beautiful
She says my soul is lovely
And so is my poetry
If only she realized the power of her elfish grin