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Image for the poem Steaming Pile

Steaming Pile

I try to loosen up
Dispense with all the rigors
The rhyme and syllable count are scarce
Embellishment in service to content

My Muse strokes me on the back
Almost quelling the stricture and structure
I ache for my former form
And try my best to let it go

But when she rewards me with a kiss
I relapse to my former style
I now write in a state of bliss
Even if it's a steaming pile.
Written by crowfly
Published
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