Recipe Me Poem by Subroto Chatterjee

A thousand years of prose and verse,
A thousand more to settle down;
Diced and served mixed metaphors;
With metonymy and adnoun.

Catch the lovely imagery,
These stanzas are isochronous;
Let loose thy savagery;
Free verse from resulting succuss.

Attune meter and the rhyme,
Laugh off the hyperbole;
Move your hand and head in time;
Eat my words; swallow me whole.

Caress these couplet with thine eyes;
Follow the words that run-on line;
The enjambement is the prize;
Then revel in thy condign.

Dance with words in Petrarchan style;
Dress them in the right octave;
Mixed with rhythm and some guile,
Tercet I doth twice enslave.

Served with humor and litotes;
The elegy, lyric and epic.
Cavort around them as you please;
Though they may be monostich.

My poetry is quite concrete;
‘Tis marinated in prosody.
Even if they’re offbeat,
Recipe me for any malady!


08th May 2009
Copyright © SC