solitary is the bard’s life
headstrong, stubborn words causing strife
distractions cannot be obeyed
intent at odds with rhymes, I bade they emerge rife
days spent leaning over worn desk
head bowed above maddening task
proposing numerous sketches
erasing scribbling etches, devising drafts
dissatisfied, still I persist
too many more are soon dismissed
rhymes are hard to come by this day
did Shakespeare have a verse foul play, or slam his fist
was his floor strewn with shamed rejects
until such time he found respect
within just the right syllables
opting for those admissible that shone perfect
Please join us at dVerse poets where I give instruction on the Florette form. My post will go up today at 3PM EST: http://dversepoets.com/
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