The Taming of the Verbs
or
Fathers and Sons
On all sides we were beset
By Adjectives and Nouns
They pressed against relentless
But us Verbs, we held our ground.
They tried to hold us still
To ponder where and what,
But we quite had our fill!
We held our tractless rut.
Like footprints in the sand
They wooed our formless band
To mold our frenzied act
Like beads encased in hacky-sacks
But we proved
Impossible to ride
Foam stallions of the tide.
We rushed about in frenzy
Like tumult of the gods
And I was one made dizzy
Smashing through the odds.