The Bologna Blog

Words

I have scripted and sculpted so many poems in my lifetime that I catch myself speaking in rhymes, at odd and unusual times. Poems of my heart tend to explode when my lips spill over in the form of an ode Uncontrolled prose from my mouth like a river it flows. People find it strange as the words I arbitrarily rearrange. Lyrical in form, my recitals sing like a psalm. Weird though it seems, my words dance all soothing and calm Without ever having to rehearse, my beak blurts out in tempered verse My monologue composed in a sonnet, a fluke pulled out from under my bonnet. My discourse an epic ballad, crafting thoughts I deem valid. I do not know from where this freak of nature stems, but from undercover, I have discovered some gems. I often worried if a tumor pressed on some nerve in my brain, as I battled poetry's untimely refrain. I ditched the stress, my rhymes will not be suppressed. Words are the name of my game and never shall I be ashamed.