Farcical Poetry

Poetry is not what you deem,

Nor is poetry what it may seem.

A gathering of words,

In which may be absurd,

Think? What does it mean?


Deedly dee,

Doodly doo,

It may mean something to me,

However nothing to you.


I can ponder all night,

Or think but a moment,

Will it make sense?

Am I a proponent?

Am I writing foolish prepense?


None will know,

If it is a show,

But what am I trying to shew?

Hm, I dont know,

What is it that I owe?


My heart is askew,

For this I knew,

When you left me be,

Alone to my dues.


Meaning this does have,

For a man is torn in half,

Is it his lover who has left?

And deprived his heart bereft?


 A lovers heartbreak,

 Left him with a heart ache,

 Is this all we know of him? 

 What sense in this can you take?


 For no sense does this make.


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