You ain’t no poet

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He said, “Hey there I heard
Your poem. It was absurd.”

“How so man, please tell me?”
“It didn’t rhyme,” said he.

“Dear man it sometimes goes,
Poetry is called in prose.

Without structure, form or line,
And picturing words to define.”

“Well, you ain’t no poet,
Poems rhyme I know it.”

“I gift to you this time
A poem set in rhyme.”

Dedicated to a snarly bass player.

© Zora Zebic 2016

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