Opening the Mic is quite fine,
Dearest poet deVine,
But youíve done nothing but say
Come here and write away
At eight and donít be late.
What poem shall we write,
What words to pen,
What masterpieces shall our writing do
And to who?
I just want to get this right,
Itís got to be more than just where or when,
And how will we know when weíre through?
Will the assembled poets just wander away
When they lack something else to say?
And of this poetical storm,
You mention nothing of style or form.
Please, oh please, tell us more
DeVine I do implore