I fail at fortune’s fate so many times
it stands to reason that I should give up
nevertheless, my heart delights in rhymes
I fill my mind with them, drink from the cup
that overflows, though drunk on words, still sup
till I have had my fill, though there’s enough
to keep me rhyming, like a happy pup
who hunts his ball through bracken, rough
though it may seem: rough like my rhymes
I’ll have at them again, ten thousand times!
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A Decuain for dVerse
Tonight, Laura hosts Meeting the Bar, and challenges us to write ten-line, ten syllabic poetry. I chose the option of writing a Decuain: visit dVerse to find out more!
The title of this poem was a catchphrase of my Grandma’s, who spoke English with a Latvian accent…I’m feeling pretty awful with PMDD, so this lighthearted verse is the best I can offer at the moment!