The  daises  within  the  grass  are  sleeping.
While  slight  fr­osts  up  above  are  seeping .

They  are  waiting  for  the  new  born  sun.
Then  they  will­  arise  and  have  some  fun.

They  shine  and sparkle  all  day  long.
Till  the  departing  sun  has  gone.

A­s  the  day  has  run  its  course.
They  settle  down  without  ­remorse.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2017.

In preparation for a gift,
a once in a lifetime
thing, the challenges
that are external
are daunting. You must
go to the Dollar Store
and impose yourself
on a thing and take it
to the inaccessible
clerk. You may flounder
with no direction,
and a feeling of weakness,
which is a symptom
of buying. It is
significant. Many great
civilizations have
effective gifts
from the Dollar Store.

Quick! Call the poetic constabulary
I'm mincing words about my vocabulary
Help! I'm drowning in my thesaurus
evidence that i'm merely a brontosaurus

Listen up to my Greek chorus:
"Such silly word play should place her in poem prison
a ponderous place from which few have risen
Locked in the cell, losing her sense
consequence of writing with no poetic license"

Writing on with no reason or rhyme
just doing my poetic time
iambic meters bite me in the ****
trying to force me out of my sonnetic rut

stumbling on ideas most trite
all the pitfalls of making the choice to write