Today an English form called Fourteeners, consisting of fourteen not necessarily iambic syllables. “Casey at the Bat,” was my guide today in this ridiculous endeavor- as some of my followers know I am very fond of nonsense.
Today I met with my old friend, who loves to chat and walk
his mood was grim, his pace too quick, our stroll became a stalk
the sky reflected Joe’s demeanor sullen-faced and grim
a roiling cloud spat lightning out to dance upon its rim.
I feared to ask, I feared to speak. Divorce? A death? Who knew?
Then Joe bent down, untied the lace and emptied out his shoe.
My heart beat fast, blood coursed my veins, I punched him in the snoot!
“What’s that hit for?” he cried in rage and kicked me with his boot.
So Joe and I began to fight, we grappled on the ground
till satisfied we both shook hands and he bought me a round.