Friday, January 18, 2013

Rhyming with Cigars



Back at the end of 2011, I put this poem on my other blog.  I'm not quite sure why it wound up there, but for the sake of consistency, I'm now including it amongst the poems on this blog, which is focused on poetry....

Rhyming with Cigars

I'm not a man who frequents bars;
Or thinks it cool to down large jars
Of beer; I've never ever tried cigars;
I don't get sweaty seeing big, fast cars,
And consequently have no scars
From crashing and then seeing stars.
What, you ask, do I live on Mars?
Not at all, I've watched the movie, Lars
And the Real Girl, grammar I can parse,
I know the name of the Curé of Ars,
(John Vianney), know that Fars
Is a province in Iran, formerly called Pars,
Can differentiate Picassos and Renoirs,
However, I've never finger-picked guitars
In bazaars frequented by Russian Czars.
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