My keyboard says to me
if all you could do was see
Shut out the complex metaphors
like the wind from my windows
I have problems with my spelling
Abstracts give my senses a drilling
Simplicity comes without the thrilling
My poetry needs a little chilling
Is honey blue on paper?
Realisations can end the caper
Ideas are steam not vapour
Their hustle can be reduced to a taper
If I cease to cook up a storm
Let simplicity be my norm
And ingenuity of the soul
string my pearls to gold
too beautiful
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