One is forced to admit, sometimes,
There are easier things than rhymes.
Couplets and quatrains won’t form. Instead,
Everything else runs through the head:
Things that bother me, folks I owe;
Debts and troubles from years ago;
Food and my over-weight together;
Lousy politics and lousier weather;
Stars and planets and children’s needs;
How the Greater Tasmanian Bullfrog breeds;
Bathroom fixtures, flowers in a bunch;
Baseball, genetics, and what’s for lunch.
Yet it must be these, though he may not show it,
That make up, finally, any poet…..
by Ray Romine Sunday, December 16, 1951
