The Graceful Swan

The graceful swan so poised and true,
makes ballerinas cry and swoon;
a jumbo jet within the air,
with null resistant derriere.
But when dear cygnus comes to roost,
both feet and wings are Pas de deux,
while shrilling, honking, blowing flames,
a right old cockup on the Thames.

On Poetry

Poets today are lazy to rhyme,
too careless with meter, too rushed with each line.
Give me a verse with a well crafted phrase
and disperse with a curse all those dreary essays!
Adding a line-break does not create poetry;
those terse, broken phrases? Unintelligible vocally.
So get out your pen and play with the pace;
find the right word to fit the right space.

Suffer to be Beautiful

Suffer to be Beautiful
By Ana

I don’t eat bread or chocolate cake,

in dinners and breakfasts I do not partake,

there’s cherry plum pudding cooled fresh on the sill,

it may as well sit there – to me it’s all swill.

I cannot remember the taste of dessert,

when I climb out my dress my ribs creak and they hurt,

I’m down three sizes to a minus 2,

I need to put cotton in the sides of my shoes.

I cry in my sleep for one last little bite,

a glass of tap water stays my appetite,

my lips have not tasted a real crème Brule,

in so long my taste buds have just withered away.

my doctor and mother share the same phobia –

that my skin will stretch tight and eventually tear.

I suffer and diet and look like a rake,

but oh! What a beautiful corpse I will make!