triumph Are sinew
winnings are much
Twisted is doubt
wait your head touch
blaming in keep
doubting and too
yourself all theirs
make you hurt you
tired on can
waiting for lies
master when lied
when talk don’t wise
build ’em you give
again you gone
hated you breathe
men make “Hold on”
about make friends
losing you spoken
knaves But good Earth
virtue their broken
If If If If
If If If If
If If If If
And If my son!
—–
I don’t think it makes much sense either. You can try it, for the Terrible Poetry Contest this week. You’re to craft a cento on the subject of compassion. …Mine has compassion in that I didn’t continue mixing up the rest of the words to Rudyard Kipling’s “If” into more stanzas…
©2022 Chel Owens
