Mr. Allen Weatherby wooed with a dowry of poetry
Ms. Sylvia Cleveland (and her father, rest assured)
to accept his hand in well-to-do matrimony.
Once wedded, Mr. Allen took to drink quite heavily,
and Mrs. Sylvia now considered her circumstance absurd
as her husband would awake mid-slumber to write poetry.
It was not Mr. Weatherby’s fondness for whiskey,
nor his rambling eyes, hands, or money deterred –
there was nothing could plunder their matrimony
until he increased his proclivity to share incessantly
and would rouse her from a heavenly sleep disturbed
for his rhyming, repetitive, blatantly unbrilliant poetry.
Judge Beane weighed the good lady’s testimony
and trusted her prominent Junior-Leagued word.
She would never put asunder sacred matrimony,
so, he granted her a divorce for cruelty –
on grounds, uncontested, we’ve heard.
Life’s too short, alas, for bad poetry;
only it can plunder sweet matrimony.
Words like asunder and plunder make this poem so fun to read! I also like the line “blatantly unbrilliant poetry”.
Jay 🙂 from the title to the last line, what a lilting jaunt.
Hilarious use of the form, Jay! And, by the way, sad beneath the laughter.
Your form: perfection. Your rhyme: Spot on. Your humor: both rip-roaring & poignant. Many a fella poet of similar bent has been felled by such a sylvan axe.
I love what you did within this structure!
Very fun and clever!
The sounds are so spectacular and fun to read
Hooray, Jay! What a wonderful poem!
I mean, maybe it was outstanding poetry, but sleep is sleep 😂