I feel you are cool
in a time when psychics
did not bend spoons
you rhymed june to moon
your poems had rhythm and stealth and poise
unlike Tennyson's sirens
by the way what do you think of Byron…
if time permits and senses permeate
can you read a few poems that I create
Dear Suneal
Oft in Abbeys I walk with daffodils yellow and singing
Your mail has send many a rhythm and rhyme timgling
This is not a trap nor a superior smirk
Your poems are crap and you a jerk
Gently under starry skies your words put me to sleep
By the way byron was a creep.
