Shall I call down Death from on his throne,
An abdication to declare?
For his lordship over worst of woes
Has a challenger!
Often it’s been whispered
That there’s a thing that’s worse than Death;
And it’s this very thing that’s snickered
As I’ve cursed under my breath!
It’s a nuisance I can scarce compare…
(Do tell if you’ve a metaphor to lend!)
And I call myself a poetry connoisseur —
But no, meter is not my friend!
***
Sorry for being absent these last few days. Had some things on my mind… Still do. But let’s see if we can work poetry into it, eh? Just don’t expect perfect meter. I’ve never been able to fully wrap my mind around that…
Writer In Retrospect 
When I saw a post from you, I realized I haven’t seen one in a while.
I hope things figure themselves out soon enough.
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Yeah… 😅 Unfortunately, I’ve yet to find the shears capable of clipping time’s wings; It seems to fly on by with little heed to me.
Thanks.
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Do I dare speculate, Rachel? Who scoffs at Thanatos himself? If I get it wrong, have I merely heaped the incorrect guess upon your worries?
If I get it right, though, what’s my reward? That shiny nickel? On, please, please.
Either way, we already have started the process, discussing the problem. At times, it merely exacerbates but generally, each pass we take at it demystifies its wickedness. Eventually, someone – most probably you, but possibly one of us or all of us – will find a solution. Patience, Fate, patience. We’re working on it. ,
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No profundities in this one, just a bit of a joke. See, after all this time, all these poems I’ve written… I still don’t understand meter. At least, not in a technical sense. Iambic pentameter? Feet? Masculine and feminine endings? What?? Why? It certainly doesn’t help that I tend to overthink things until I can hardly tell up from down, much less the difference between a stressed and unstressed syllable. But anyway, the subject had come up, and rather than stressing (cough cough) about other things, I figured I’d embrace a bit of whimsy/levity.
As for heaping things on my worries — only I can do that. Who is responsible for my worries, but me? Besides… An “incorrect guess” on your part would just mean I get to keep my nickel. 😜
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Ha, Rachel! Such nuances are far beyond my notice, or even my anility to comprehend them. You understand, my appreciation is for “your pirty words, even if they don’t rhyme.”
Analyzing them for adherence to some obscure rule is so thoroughly beyond the point, and robs them of their intensity. You’re here to find beautiful new ways to express yourself, something you accomplish splendidly. Leave the rulemaking and formula-filling to the engineers. They’re good at that kind of thing.
Honestly, Rachel, my biggest fear is flubbing an interpretation. Of commenting on your poetry, only to have you think, “No. No! That isn’t at all what this means! Did he even read this? Doesn’t look like it.”
Probably happens much more often than I’d like to think, but you have too much grace to mention it!
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