She was blamed to be so possessive,
Blamed to kill poor vowels all alive,
When they with crock tears wept,
She laughed once they all left:
...
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We have no time to write perfect language, hyphen has almost gone, now apostrophe,
metered poems are no more, gone is the verse, and prose is poetry. What next?
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Cold killer! ! Muse of a woman. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
We have no time to write perfect language, hyphen has almost gone, now apostrophe, metered poems are no more, gone is the verse, and prose is poetry. What next? Thanks for visiting.