I Dream

I dream in iambic
I mumble in verse
for Will was my teacher
and Em was my nurse.

My quill dips in fountains
of eloquent ink
and beautiful etchings
for Poe was my shrink.

I farmed with my Tennyson
planting the seed,
I studied my Cummings
(old e.e.), indeed

“anyone lived” is a
poetry force--
and as for my Kipling,
I’ve kipled, of course.

I’ve mingled and mangled
with many a bard.
I will be a poet
it can’t be that hard.