A Lark In Time

Drink up your words,
like a good poet should.

Make sure you're well and

truly soddened. A jar of

mulberry rhymes may turn

you yet, into a Butler, Pope,

or stark ravening Keats--

Lord knows even a lark in time.

A rose in kind, daisy stitched

from daffodils, to soothe

a rising breast, the beast

within your feathered mind:

drink up, drink up,

drink up, the frothy mead

of sleepless nights, 

merry maidens dancin' light:

drink up, drink up,

drink up, drown yourself

from the cup of poerty--

make rhyme like a lark in time.

Ken e Bujold

2022

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

I often fly with gossamer Wings through flowers blue with dreams… gently, Pat

[andrew mitchell]

Clever Ken just clever. And how true.

[John the Baptist]

Aye, drink up, drink up. But the hangover may find you saying "Nevermore."

[W. Barrett Munn]

Poetry is to writing as kobayashi beef is to Big Macs.

Winston

[Ken e Bujold]

:))) now there is a metaphor

[Chris Shaw]

How creative this write is aided by a glass of something. Too soddened though and it all ends up a crumpled mess. That is the words and the poet too :)(well in my case it would be). A fun write is a lark in time Ken. Most enjoyed.

Chris

[Ken e Bujold]

i know what you mean chris, in just the right amounts, a lark in time. one more and it would of been full of Bryon

[Chris Shaw]

Ha! Just on my second glass of chablis. All about balance :)

[Neville]

Both hearty n wholesome .. just the way I likes em ........... Just larkin around sir Ken, muchly enjoyed my friend :)

[Ken e Bujold]

amazing how creative one can get with just one more wee glass and a book of poetry laying on the table. The joke "its larkin time popped in my head and I was off and scribbling

[Red Brick Keshner]

Over the years it has been observed that a measure of that mulberry does loosen the tongue of a fair few. Alas for this one, it only makes me muse and observe and quietly meditate. The Muse works in varied manner correspondent with individualities.

[Ken e Bujold]

it does indeed. like me tonight, suddenly decided an entire poem could be composed from one rather whimsical moment, a lark in time...which I am still chuckling at, because if there is one thing Philip Larkin wasn't it was a romantic rhymer