12-2 Camena Interrupta

On Saturdays I like to post a humorous poem. Today’s is from Witless on my web site.

 

Camena Interrupta

 

The measured words of poetry

Rise round the mystic sphere,

Sift through the dirt or sing divine

In strains that soothe or sear.

 

But now the stanzas halt and freeze:

Eternity is stilled—

The dog looks guilty at the door

The poet’s muse is chilled.

 

Goodbye “the crescent in the sky

Reaping a horde of crows,”

Holding his breath, he scoops the mess.

The muse must hold her nose.

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