Copyright © December 25, 2010 by Douglas W. Jerving.
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A-Non Sense Poemsten (to be read aloud).
Nags becoming come an’ gone an’
Seeing heart throngs often dawn.
A’m still a reader these things that make
Heavens low and cause the greater
Part of ling be’ng caustic ganons
Tow to know their frested sycophancies of laden twining.
O poetry makes n sense to us
On earth a recompense of thee.
Not but a buttressed fortress found
In finding phyrric compost strang
And under hundster traeven slang
tryst me meaven horrid bounders.
I hung the hangster round me pooven.
Yacht! hoight a heister glib und glisten.
Shiney songs for all glauben schistern
Can all be clear o’ footy blister’n
Call all agin ‘n late wooden cistern.
Ah, but ne’er been fulgen stoor bisten.
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