As promised, this is dedicated to Kamas, a little gift for Valentines.
Seldom do I wander to read what writers ponder,
Quite often do they stumble in spectacularly shrewd jumbles.
And I can bet with my cynics mind's eye that these upstart Shelleys'
Multiply, as far as the sky can reach;
Do they find it a wonder that when they die
No body sheds even a blink?
So I toast to the Legion, of unremarkable taste and artistic waste,
A poem to the unnamed poet whose machinations were their end.
Seldom do I wander to read what writers ponder,
Quite often do they stumble in spectacularly shrewd jumbles.
And I can bet with my cynics mind's eye that these upstart Shelleys'
Multiply, as far as the sky can reach;
Do they find it a wonder that when they die
No body sheds even a blink?
So I toast to the Legion, of unremarkable taste and artistic waste,
A poem to the unnamed poet whose machinations were their end.
Note: Meant in satire and honesty. Make what you like of it, and give a review if you like.


Thank you Kamas, this was part exercise for me and you, and I did intend it for you at some point in time to see. I guess Valentines isn't all that BAD. For the doubt you express in a review, you took precise thoughts we've shared and found specific examples and also pin-pointed deeper possibilities.