Receipts
This poem has put in for some
bravura║ caesuras, but it has not yet been
cleared by The Poetry Society
for the extra expense.
It is making some claims
for half-rhymes
but it will receive buggerall
for doggerel.
It expects its readers' purses to reimburse
its attempts at verse –
if it were prose,
it would not expect to be paid through the nose,
but since poetry is sweeter,
you should feed the meter.
O let allowances be paid! O may thy bounty be bestow'd
if ode.
A poem also needs a second home
to enable it to subsist
so this will claim not only for the original tome
but also for the anthologist.
No names, no pack-drill, but
fork out for dactyls; and
anapaest, at the least,
palms are greased.
This poem is also putting in for
ink,
a garrett in which to think,
a goblet to catch the sweat of inspiration,
any experi mental inno vation,
and the cost of the hire
of formal attire.
THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS VERSE LIBRE
Bard whines?
Hard lines.
