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Click hereMy baby, she done left me, and now I'm all alone.
My baby found a poet with some talent, not a clone.
No more triolets or sonnets. They'd be too blue in tone.
Not even couplets, 'cause in my cups, I'm not feeling very gay.
Nor even unrhymed tricets, can't write nothin' good today,
'cause I'm feelin' pretty bluesey, 'cause the booze has had it's way.
If I could play a geetar, I'd be geetarin' up a storm
and I'd be singin', I'd be drinkin' from that bottle with the worm.
But I've nothin' but some silly rheumy lines that make me squirm.
My baby, she done left me, and now I'm all alone.
My baby found a poet with some talent, not a clone.
No more triolets or sonnets. They'd be too blue in tone.
geetaring? ~ please! Let's show a little respect. Until you can save up enough money to buy a dictionary ~ it's spelled Guitar. *laughing* I dig where you're coming from though. Very witty rendering.
Sing them blues SET! Though I see you still managed a repetition {but nowhere near a triolet}. Don't stop there; there're still plenty of forms you can wrap yourself around.
I hear you brother! Testify! Testify to the Lord!
A witty poem that's well crafted (as always) Thanks for the read