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Poetic Paradise.

Updated on March 13, 2011

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I took a vacation,

needing no reservation,
in a town so sublime,

that folks all called it Rhyme.


Found a spot by the pool,

at their poetry school,
where one got a cheap room,

bright or filled with dark gloom.


In each night stand you're liable,

to not find a bible,
a thesaurus instead,

takes its place by the bed.


Soon I lounged on a chair,

that said Frost once sat there,
sipping on a martini,

as I watched each bikini
pass in lovely parades,

through my rose tinted shades.


Then I chose the write lunch,

I had deadlines to crunch,
some verbs sandwiched between,

adjectives spiced and lean,
on wry layers of wit, t

hat helps poet's keep fit.


Soon I ran in a dash,

to the pool with a splash,
swimming hard in a slash,

to the hot tub to crash,
with a young girl named Browning,

whose dark tan was astounding,
sweet Liz kept me from frowning,

with her kisses and clowning.


Oh, the sunset was awesome,

in the arms of this blossom,
distant relative of,

a great poet I love.
Spent a week in this place,

with a grin on my face,
a poetic retreat,

from my free verses beat.

Even met Dr. Suess,

he's the local massuese,
who helped introduce me,

to great ways to stay loose.

All my meals were divine,

Sandburg-ers and wine,
Poe boy's on long dark bread,

through which ketchup was bled.

Kippered Kipling-s as well,

ah, the food there was swell

Then I boarded a train,

free of worry and pain,
and what leaped in my brain,

was this latest ink stain.


If your work's got you down,

take some time in Rhyme Town,
it's just past your last hope,

This place helps you to cope.

©-MFB III

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    • Randy Behavior profile image

      Randy Behavior 7 years ago from Near the Ocean

      My comment should be filled

      with rhymes, poetic and clever

      but that just aint me,

      not whatsoever.

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