Peddling my pedestal of potty poetry
I feel flamboyant, and carefree,
which is my creative key.
Stay with me, as you will see.
Moulding cuteness with fruitiness.
Love-sick music. Dancing and chancing.
Colourful, enchanting. Verses of disheartening.
Exploring dark and light. Shades of grey.
Keeping demons and imps at bay.
Confessing, obsessing words of
fretting. Fearful and regretting.
Ridiculed jeers and sneers,
shedding saddened tears.
Their all there, my
pots of poetry earthen ware.
My eclectic diverse, crazy clay
can also form to shape away,
a miserable, weary and painful day.
Cant make hay with arid clay,
so without delay, peddle the
wheel a different way.
But sometimes the spinning mind does stop.
Then I have the poets strop.
Fragile tales flip and flop,
my palms produce a squidgy pot!
Nothing hits the spot. Just blot!
Abstract fickle fiction, fumbled fact.
takes me down a different track.
Cascading and spiralling a twisty trap.
Such a bum! And,
last few dregs of naughty rum.
reminds me... I must buy some!
Shaking off the mental block
time for my table to rattle and rock.
Hand to the wheel, keep it turning
for a while. Shaking remnants of denial.
Sculpting back a happy smile.
Bringing a sense of sobriety
To my potty poetic society.
Plucked varnish from my heart
I glaze my works of potted art.
All displayed for you to see.
To browse and read.
So just feel free. No fee!
Their all on me!
Very witty and crafty, in sound and meaning. It is hard to do one , ten times harder to combine the two.
I love how you used the affect of sound , P in the beginning and fear, sneer , jeer, tear, earthen... later the letter o and... all over this wonderful piece.