The English Language

There aught to be adumbrate

 Over all that we say

 As we cleave all words

 And comprise customs.

And yet we continue to dust

While giving out and fast

Fine handicaps to all who listen.

And then we sit and marvel

At what we have ravel

While deciding if to resign

Or continuing to trim

With words like shank

While keeping up

Our sanguine intent.

Oh if only English was adumbrate

But alas we weather on

And wind up is

Where we stand.

The End

8 comments about this poem Feed