On Being Arty-Farty by James Corry

We, the secret society,
See a raging eye
That peers at us from the sky
And leaves the shadows undone.
At its glance
They have no chance.
Others see the sun.

They, the unappreciative crowd,
May say it's only a cloud,
But it's really imagination ploughed,
Ready to take the form
Of any demon or beast
Or an imp at the very least.
To the bonds of reality it won't conform.

They may claim
There's much to gain
From being terse
In your verse,
But being arty-farty
And airy-fairy
Is ever so fun
And makes one
Feel somewhat smarty.

(5 ratings)
Rate this Poem (5 best)