This is a verse and not a fuckin' stanza!

Why use six letters when five saves paper?

I'd rather turn plough than stand in a chamber.

 

Agricultural language suits this bard

and poetry is but a topiary art -

that's what I gather from your cutting remarks.

 

I'm lower case type that inhabits the basement

where jars and saucepans in haphazard placement

create an imperfect kind of enjambment

 

employed to collect red wine and sushi,

filter and ferment into something fruity -

that's my trickle-down theory of beauty.

 

Up in the loft they write for eternity,

while I'm beset by a sense of urgency -

the soles of my feet forever burning me

 

so I commit each metre to memory

before upper storeys fall on my legacy -

poetic justice when I miss a penalty.