Monday, November 2, 2015


                    Forgetting that I’ve written such a verse
                    As I’m about to do again may be a curse
                    Condemning me to repetitiousness—
                    Though possibly the route to my success:

                    Perfection comes with practice, it is said,
                    So if down the same pathways I am led,
                    Perhaps in time I’ll happen on a winner,
                    A veteran then, no longer a beginner.

                   But still, my search for new material
                   Is paramount, what’s apt and lyrical
                   And not like this—merely expository,
                   Or possibly a captivating story.

                       Well, time and space have sadly now run out—
                       Tomorrow’s will be better, I’ve no doubt.