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Poetry The Problem with an Orange

The World Between the Words
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I know what will easily
rhyme with a duck.
It's not what you think,
it's good luck!
Then when I write
of a horse and a cart,
I always conclude
with the life of Mozart.

I can sing a dirge
of war in the trench,
pray for the tramp
found dead on a bench,
speak of the fauna
on Mount Popocatepetl
and laugh at the maid
who sat on a nettle.

I’ll shout for the life
of a frog in a ditch,
extol the kick
of a ball on a pitch;
I’ll sing a song
of the flight of a bird,
scream at the horror
of wolves in a herd.

I’ll play the music
of the jiving Earth,
cry for the beauty
of babies at birth,
strum ballads for lovers
who swear to be true
and boast of a carrot,
one summer I grew.

But try as I might
and I've put up a fight
through all of the night
without a respite.
I thought and I fought,
but then I was fraught
for nothing will rhyme
with an orange.
 
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