Part One. The Kvetch

I am starting to wonder
about the Daily Poem:
Is love always forlorn,
never requited.
Is there an alternative to angst.
where did laughter go.
smiles that blaze like  a sun
turning  a face into an ode to joy:
are they forbidden.
poets write of *** and their lover’s bodies
mostly cold, mostly clinical.
Never feral, never lyrical.
Oy

Part Two.  It’s Spring after all, time for a change

Can the algorithm be dialed up to happy
set to silly and plainly sappy
I started this poem sad and gray
Somehow I changed to light and fey
It’s Spring after all, time for a change