What was the matter with Romeo, Juliet,
Living their lives in such short span of time
Killing themselves for the love of the other
And all through the play only speaking in rhyme?
Well, back in those days they always spoke in rhyme
And that was progressive! (It -used- to be mime!)
But the situation got steadily worse
Until some poor sap had invented free verse!
Free verse! What is that? You mean that I might
Not always need to rhyme when I write?
I think you lie! It would be too strange
To spend no more nights seeking rhymes with orange!!
Well, truth is stranger than fiction, they say,
But I think that our rhyming style won't fade away.
The humble rhyme could be our chance at some fame,
If all of these @#$% phrases end up all the same!
But there is endless variety!
If not in me, or thee, then we
Together like the snowflakes be!
Except not melting... at least, not me.
Melt? Not me! But I must agree
that when verse isn't free,
It is easy to see
Between us we
write some good poetry! (whew!)
Alas, my verses are not grand
In fact, I could count on one hand
All the great things I have written,
Just hand... not even fingers, kitten. :(
(Maybe if you removed the mitten...?)
You've got lots of talent and plenty of skill,
(Almost as much as me!) and I think that you will
find that good poetry isn't that hard to write,
but something truly -great- is a rarely seen sight.
Keep a song in your mind and a laugh in your heart;
There's no better way that a poet can start.
I don't need to start... instead I need ending.
Verse is a wound in my soul not soon mending.
I've been writing this poetry since I was five
Every minute, all hours, but can I survive
Without it? I am beginning to doubt
There's a person at all, if the verses run out.
Though set upon a sheet or scroll,
Your words are pieces of the soul.
Although they may go by different name,
Aren't verse and self one and the same?
Am I so small then, if all I can be
Are rhymes that you, my dear Monkey, can see
Or others I show to no other but me?
I want to be more. I want to be grand.
I want to have more than the work of my hand
There with a pen, clenched tightly in.
Want to be something I cannot begin
To describe. But not so apart
As I seem to be when I practice my art.
You have great aspirations for glory,
far above where this monkey may stand.
Fly on the wings of story;
Buoyed up by the works of your hand.
I too know the frustrated yearning;
the deep wordless longing for sky...
To become something more than I ever could be.
Shall we go together, you and I?
Together can we be more than we apart?
A whole then greater than its sum?
My scientific brain screams that it can't be done,
While my soul wonders what we could become.

Sorry about line #16. I don't rhyme so well at three a.m.!
--monkey
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I rhyme strange with orange and you think I can complain about YOU??--js
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Don't torture yourself. It could have been 'doorhinge'.
--monkey
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It originally was "espionage" but I wasn't sure how to spell it. :)--js
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Sorry for calling you "kitten", monkey. Forgive?--js :)
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Forgiven. :)
--monkey
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Thou art a kind, yea, and a generous soul, monkey. I emote warm fuzzy feelings in thy general direction. (It needs must be general, since I know not where thou art!)--js
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Thou art a warm, fuzzy person, js! :) Been getting ready to take off for a while (dragged off with the family for Xmas u know.) If you need me, send an e-shout to ae719@freenet.unbc.edu It'll get to me! I should be back in a few days. Take care, js!
--monkey
(p.s. by the time i get back i should have figured out what "js" stands for!)
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Monkey, my dear, I shall wait with bated breath for your return. There shall be wailing, gnashing of teeth... hell, I'll even throw in some rending of garments. But I WON'T eat locusts. Nope nope. Not gonna do it! Not even for you.--js (jsgoddess@ascenture.net)
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To js:
Methinks that you an your sweet monkey
Would a wonderful little match be.