A Poem for Dear Jon
(or Why My Poems Don’t Rhyme)
by S.E. Shepherd
June 17, 2003
I have decided to respond to such a quip (nearly a year later) with the following poem, proving that poets do not write non-rhyming poems because we’re deep, but because it’s just so hard to think of all the words that rhyme.
And so I present…)
That Day In June
That day in June,
Your dress was dark maroon.
We shouted out with glee,
As we turned on the TV,
When we found the “Star Trek” marathon.
We ordered food,
The take-out guy was rude.
We sat down on our knees
‘Cause we ordered some Chinese,
Chicken chow mien and some soup (Won-ton).
You brushed your hair,
And you were unaware,
That I saw your black bra
As you spoke of Shangri-La;
‘Cause your movement had exposed you.
Your face turned red,
But we both laughed instead,
And since you loved to see
The embarrassment in me,
You told me your underwear matched too.
You gave a sigh
As we began to lie
Back on the couch to view
What transpired for the crew;
And you wiped the soy sauce off your lips.
Back on TV,
It was bad for Riley,
And Bones said, “Jim, he’s dead,”
Because the guy was wearing red;
We both knew he should have stayed on the ship.
It was a perfect day, that day in June,
Watching the marathon that began at noon.
With you by my side,
I was full of pride.
Too bad your breath smelled like Crab Rangoon.
About the Author:
S.E. Shepherd likes to write poetry occasionally, and usually does better than the poem above.
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