I'm a doctor of poetry, sound, and the vice of Pan,
poetically speaking, I'm going to try a new line,
a cuarentona of fourteen sounds. Alight mis musas,
let's get Rhyming then neht gnimyhR. It seems
that I am misunderstanding the Form. Ayúdenos,
almas, sueños, Oyes! Realidad que ya estufas. Done
with misery, injustice, mistakes that cost millions of lives.
What are we learning from such Rituals of Rhyme and Parlance?
Let’s ponder the Theory and Worship of Prose, WTF?
Let’s invent a Cure for Metrophilia. Sí se Puede.
We can. We are the Women who devised Songs of Muses.
We sing in Harmonic Convergence and have our Woes Survived.
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