And what poem might suit thou, love?
When at once I thought of a nonet,
A voice whispered from clouds above,
"Nay, better would be a sonnet."

In a while before thinking twice,
Another sharply pierced mine ear;
"Better would it be in free verse,
Lend no ear unto Shakespeare."

When I thought of one of a kind,
Another said, "better would be a ballad,
And if thou art not mentally blind,
It goes down well while takin' a salad."

Shortly after I'd employed this clue,
Another said, "better would be a limerick
Whilst taking some gin and rotten stew,
To win so fair a maiden that's the trick."

Nay, quoth another, obsolete are all rules,
To neither lend no ear nor Lear,
For he's the chief of the realm of fools,
A crown he holds for many a year.

"Screech no more like a wingless bird,"
Quoth another. "Thy queen's beauty
Is but peerless and thee, blind bard,
Thy quill canst not tell of her beauty?"

At this , I bethought of her raven hair,
Her ivory skin gaily than a silvern moon,
Her eyes that no luster of star doth near,
And I- I fully drowned in a sea of shame.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angels, California, USA.
          10/31/2018