Poetry I just cannot seem to quit.
Is their another form that I could do?
Dickinson's poetry is not worth shit,
And there is nothing that can beat haiku.
It sure seems that Robert Frost knows his stuff,
But I've heard his poems time after time.
Roads less traveled, I've had more than enough
Of their monotonous rhythm and rhyme.
To emulate Poe I do aspire,
His brilliant yet dark and twisted ways.
Yet I would rather set to me fire
Than toil those required days and days.
My will, with nothing but Shakespeare on it,
Must finally rest upon a sonnet.