My attempts at allusion
Are causing confusion
Like Pinocchio's protrusion
They're out of control
It's time to be merry
But now I feel scary
My bowl has no cherry
It's tormenting my soul.
My cup run not over
I'm not in the clover
Should I do this poem over?
Nope. That's not my role.
Something is missing.
Perhaps it's the hissing
With the critics dismissing
My work as a whole.
Don't heed the detractors!
Those off Broadway actors
Those too late reactors,
For I'm on a roll.
This poem might be silly.
A bit willy-nilly,
Or just dally dilly
But so is my soul.
C'est la vie.
(c) 2006 Henry L. Lefevre
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