No one moods of a poet's pen knows,
Nor the book that a man whereso toes,
Nor of wife weathered for life and close—
Beware still: thorns too stay close to rose.
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Pose, prose, nose! Purpose of life, Rose of love. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
syllabic anapaestic metre IN MODERN DAY FREE VERSE POETY YOUR VISION MAY BE TAKEN AS RESTRICTED NO ONE CARES ABOUT SYLLABLES ANNA WHAT HALF SELF STYLED POETS DON'T KNOW YOU R AN EXCEPTIONAL POET HERE SIRRRRRRRRRRRRRAP
A good observation PP, Does it mean we are too old for this too modern a time in a hurry? But then on second thought, why worry. Everyone likes his own curry! Thanks for your comments. And hope you poetry site is available now.