A 'Dorsimbra' and an 'Englyn'
- two poetry forms - google them for details
Weft
My pen flies o’er the silken paper sheet
To weave a yarn of bitter self-deception.
Alluring are its words, become replete
And ready for a reader’s keen perception.
Read! Absorb the thoughts.
Fly eyes across the lines.
Impale their meaning
On your wit.
’Tis done! You have the meat and gristle now.
The substance and the froth, all rolled in one.
And while you sleet across my golden words,
My pen flies o’er the silken paper sheet.
Creative Disappointment
The pen flies past at my behest -- my words
taste weird, absurd. The rest,
At their best a palimpsest,
And far from being brightest.