We have three contributions from poets this week.
The Clouds are Leaking Colours
and they’re slowly leaking through above the snow extending over these stretched-out Fenland fields morning’s keen light Beside matt blue grey water a pre-dawn frost astonished the reeds, and turned them sere; then they dipped towards the waste-weir How these chill nights have admonished the vole to sleep within its bank since degrees of air warmth shrank.
Time to Rhyme!
A poem’s not a poem
if it simply doesn’t rhyme,
In my book the odd line of words
is just a waste of time,
If sentences all end with words
that have no rhyme or reason,
The poet’s not a poet
and he should be tried for treason!
It is a skill worth working on
to think of words that fit,
Instead of endings with a preposition,
such as ‘it’,
So if you can’t be bothered
to make sentences that rhyme,
Your poem’s not a poem,
it is ‘literary’ a crime.
the bury free press
The Bury Free Press is a must At 95 pence I’ll go bust The letters are smashin’ The ads bring the cash in The articles are like gold dust
Email your poetry to firstname.lastname@example.org or send it to: The Editor, Bury Free Press, King’s Road, Bury St Edmunds IP33 3ET