Poetry Stew

I sat there eating my crab and oyster bisque . . . Eh, you see what happened.
 
words drip from my mouth  
no mater how fast I chew  
as I spoon poetry from the bowl  
some letters fall undigested  
onto the table where I sit  
to form other, unused phrases  
paragraphs of shoeing a horse  
the hardscrabble words frown  
at what the words have made  
not one poem in the lot  
but they are stuck where they are  
cannot rearrange themselves  
upon the hard tabletop  
in the meantime I chomp on  
absorbing poetry elite  
suddenly I hear a scream  
look down from whence it came  
as I bite down on senryu's  
I scrape unhappy words  
into my hands and gently  
drop them into the bowl  
of poetry porridge  
where they happily  
gave me five sonnets  
and one blushing limerick  
   
©February 19, 2017 / Jerry Pat Bolton