Come jump into my arms, you furry-feathered verse!
I’ll know you when I see you, either wordy or terse.
Let your metaphor roll in like an occupying force;
sit up high in your saddle on your literary horse!
A shining black stallion, he snorts and passes by
leaving a desolated mule who gives a piteous sigh.
My metaphor has four legs and is not a happy guy.
He does not jump into my arms or even give a try
but nuzzles me as though to say,
“Thanks for waiting for me today.”
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Aren’t you the poet!
On Mon, Jan 25, 2016 at 9:51 PM, NANMYKEL.COM wrote:
> nmykel posted: “Come jump into my arms, you furry-feathered verse! I’ll > know you when I see you, either wordy or terse. Let your metaphor roll in > like an occupying force; sit up high in your saddle on your literary horse! > A shining black stallion, he snorts and passe” >
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