This was first posted on a way before Facebook, Ning, even MySpace community platform builder. It was Canadian based. And very rudimentary. I paid relatively big bucks to work it and shared access with some wine sippers from California, some Boston bean counters, and a Motown engineer.

The poem was designed to shuffle the stanzas and then deal in any order. It almost works.


my creative flow
is just below
a buckle of
good intentions

starts gung-ho
that creative flow
peters out
in soft circumventions

my ruminative woe
trumps stimulative go
and chuckles at
native pretensions

my creative flow
is thusly below
a belt holding up
my conventions


This a repost. So?

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I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.