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I Try to Deliver Those Lines
I try,
But sometimes deny...
Any attempt to do poetry justice.
I try,
To deliver those lines...
With exquisite meter and rhyme.
And with a subject that produces content.
Keeping within a topic that is well defined.
But there are times,
I am not seeking correctness when I express.
My mind isn't calibrated for premeditated stress...
To toil away in a standardize acceptance.
That is as difficult for me,
As knowing the difference between cheap and fine wine.
However...
If treated with a glass of champagne.
Everything I bring into creative focus,
Will take upon a poetic justice as I sip and uncover...
Justification for it.
I can then write about life and why birds fly.
Boots I perceived worn by the bees...
Since they do work in the thickets of pollen,
To get that honey whipped.
Or I could sit back and imagine mowing snow in the Winter.
As I observe someone bar-b-cue in a fur coat joking.
I try!
Especially when I write,
To do poetry justice.
But like Poe few would know...
If my best creations were enhanced by alcohol,
And I had been wasted.
Or if a sip of champagne is all it takes,
For me to awaken with a banging hangover.
poem
by
Lawrence S. Pertillar
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