Whose words these are I think I know.
His workshop is a bughouse though;
He will not like my chortling sneer
That mocks his composition so.
If you, dear reader, think it queer
To smirk and laugh, then stop and fear!
What seems profound when in your mind
On paper lands a new career.
In this ironic twist entwined,
I see my thesis now defined:
If erudite, my scorn is fake;
If mindless bunk, then well-designed.
The logic flows without a break,
But I have sanity at stake,
And droller dreams before I wake,
And droller dreams before I wake.
Ed Morris, 2014
(With apologies to Robert Frost, author of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.)
This page copyright © 2014 Edward A. Morris. Created August 31, 2014. Last updated August 31, 2014.
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