So, What is the value of poetry?

And why would I pay to hear a bird sing?

What is the cost of a Maserati?

A cup, a clock, or just any old thing?

How much are they selling clouds for these days?

I hear the blue sky is skyrocketing.

Investing in a poem doesn't pay,

I'd go into stocks and bonds or something.

While your looking for something else to buy,

Poems are so very easily missed.

"This guy's just another salesman", you sigh.

"He's just trying to get me to enlist."

Yes, poems are life, so easily missed.

And I'm Colonel Bank waiting to be kissed.

Text Walter at 612-222-2365

The Poetry of Objects

Here are the rules to the poetry game.

There are to be ten syllables each line,

And alternating lines must rhyme the same,

With fourteen rows in total.  Then combine

All the alliterations, metaphors,

That you can pack into a single phrase;

Assonance, juxtaposition, and more.

Whatever it takes, leave the reader dazed.

Trail blaze them down paths they have never seen.

Stay fresh, try not to use the same words twice.

Create imagery with vivid scenes.

And be spontaneous, throw in some dice.

And oh, the last two lines sound together,

Like thin walls and thunder in bad weather.

      The Object of Poetry

(Walter's Mission Statement)

I move the distance from pen to paper,

To escape the needs of the "little me".

I boil its vapidity to vapor,

By writing down exactly what I see.

I drum out the noise in my toxic head,

With the silencing act of pure vision.

I forget about all that has been said,

I trust in undistorted perception.

If you like how I see, give me money.

By the way, my name's Walter F. Shoutli.