Nature's Sober Man
So in a literature class of mine, I had to read a bit of Emily Dickenson, one of the great poets during the Civil War era. It just so happens that In lieu of a 1-pager explaining her, we could make a poem in her style instead. This made for about an hour of fun as I got to exercise my mind's linguistic skills of the English Language. No need to comment if you don't want to, but I like it enough to put it up for reading. Enjoy. ^_^
I'm much too sober for a man,
My liquor glass is dry.
My tankard stands collecting dust,
At least I'll tell you why.
The springtime ale is young and sweet,
It's lure -- a ripe perfume.
Alas -- its sway for me is far too weak.
I guess I'll wait til June.
The summer fifth is full and strong,
A flavor much too quaint.
I take my fill and ask for more,
Then half the time I faint.
The fall and I go back to beer,
Its spiced, colorful brew.
But lo -- It brings back memories
Of spring, It's old made new.
The winter comes with snow and ice
To keep its liquor cold.
I stand no more a drink or two.
My head, my hands then hold.
None of Nature's liquors and beer
Agree with me in time.
I'll keep a bit of each on hand,
More for her sake than mine.
You can use your imagination on what I was meaning with this, though I will help you along if you would like the side-note thoughts I had while making it.