I don’t have a favorite
No flowery language love affair
No passion for prose
No righteousness for rhyme
Just an alliteration allstar
A masterful manipulation of words
Flowing river of intellect
Poetry is simply a sentence without end
Breathe in and out,
Scream and shout,
Without a period or a or exclamation to stop
What comes, is, and, will be spoken and heard
The end comes when I say:
STIGA!
(This is a poem about poems from someone(me) who is not a huge poem reader)
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