Wordsworth Forgive Me

Tuesday evening found me tired, feeling ancient, suffering lower back pain and at a loss for something to post. As a joke I made an almost fatal attempt at poetry. Secure enough in my manhood here to admit Shelley, Byron, Keats, Sandburg, Dickinson, and many others have been read at the beach house. It's not quite as entertaining as Lewis Grizzard, Dave Barry or Ludlow Porch, but some of those people sure knew how to use words n make purty.

To lISA (why are you spelling your name that way?): Yes, I was in a purple haze.

To Robin: Thanks for the email and I stand corrected.

To Hoppa: Appreciate the kudos!

To Mudslingr: Yes, I wonder too. Why is she shouting?

To Beagle: What a great embellishment!

My attempt at poetry was lacking. My further attempt at Haiku was even worse (if you can bear it, look in the Tuesday comments). Come to find out it wasn't Haiku at all, but actually Senryu. Okay enough, go to Wikipedia if you need to know more. The 'Adventure in Poetry' at the beach house has screeched to a halt. Will try to never do it again. Let me just close by saying if you smiled at the above then I wish you peace and love.

"A poet can survive everything but a misprint."
~Oscar Wilde