Dated 21-August-2001
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Oh why must all my precious time,
Be spent on meter, phrase and rhyme?
These words I lay out in a row,
My reasoning I do not know.

To speak some old immortal truth,
Or just my inner pain to soothe,
Or maybe just to hear my speech,
And find some wisdom out of reach.

I think that verse and poetry,
Shows lack living symmetry.
Inside my brain must be amiss,
A piece that causes thoughts to miss.

I try to stop, but still I write,
Stanzas left and stanzas right
I cannot seem to scratch the itch,
I guess I’m just poetry’s bitch

• This was saved as “unfinished”, I added the last stanza 2-July-2026 to close it out.