Living in a poem is rent free

Lament of the Urban Poet It's hard to make things rhyme When you're running short of time And you cannot seem to get your thoughts on paper. No matter if you could You still wonder if you should Or if you'd best find a less indulgent caper. But you try to relax Cut the TV, phone and fax Play your favourite instrumental, light a taper. Put your mind to the chore ... When a knock upon the door Makes the brewing verse just disappear like vapour. Heidi Ross Living in a poem

For BL Living in a poem is rent free Its lease is eternal Save a stanza or two Poems with north facing windows Warm as decent childhoods May overheat without warning Verse apartments near parks Offer tall trees and summer parties But the daylight is complicated By the untraceable histories of dapples In the poem where you live Passenger balloons ripen Like apricots at first sun This poem is inhabited By bakers of real cream matchsticks And fruiterers who convert pessimists with reggae smiles Your poem shares espresso, verandas and amici It offers haiku brandy for clarity Casual iambic measure for strolling Then limericks to lighten future composition This poem you live in is abstract like time Measured or chaotic, it has rhythm, Is constantly recomposed Not tied to bricks and mortar There are no contracts Enhancements are encouraged Your poem, as described, is wholly portable It may be taken from residence to residence Without undue disruption And — as the price of fixed dwellings soar around you — Your poem does not charge rent Margaret McCarthy