Dream Nonsense

5 May

I dreamt a famous poet
Came to teach me how to do it
He had a beard and he taught me how to rhyme
I learned all about meter
I think his name was Peter
And he charged me twenty stanzas for his time
But then when I awoke
The iambic spell was broke
I was left without a couplet or a verse
I had nothing left but prose,
Cramp in all my toes
And a mark-ed lack of stanzas in my purse


8 Responses to “Dream Nonsense”

  1. Karina Pinella May 6, 2016 at 12:50 am #

    And all this time I thought you were a poet who knew it.

  2. Crow May 6, 2016 at 2:20 am #

    Damn poets, stealing your stanzas.

    I almost wrote, “How could you stanza be cheated like that”? but I held back.

    • BRH May 6, 2016 at 6:08 am #

      That is genius! I’m going to remember that and pretend I thought of it.

      • Poet Rummager May 7, 2016 at 4:22 am #

        Hmm… this statement sounds familiar. 🙂

  3. paula graham May 6, 2016 at 8:22 am #

    oh Bless, what a shame. Wonderful poem, bittersweet.

  4. Poet Rummager May 7, 2016 at 4:23 am #

    I love that: “Dream Nonsense” — stealing it! 😀 Seriously, you carry around a man purse?

    • BRH May 7, 2016 at 9:39 am #

      Metaphorically, yes.

  5. skat July 21, 2016 at 9:51 pm #

    It’s his sporran.

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