Thursday, October 22, 2015

Waxing Poetic

When I am overtly poetic
I sport million-dollar words
and wear purple prose that draws undue attention
             to my meter.

I count syllables like coins
and calculate figures of speech
spending their value as a miser
        and a mayor.

I drive metaphor
and plead my case with simile.
Art is my co-counsel.

I waltz Con-stanza down the street
and suffer bouts of word play.
I stutter sonic symbolism
     and wallow in imagery.

When I am overtly poetic
I overindulge linguistically

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