1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 I wrote it
I know I did
I definitely did
but then it hid, from me
slinked in under the sofa
or embedded itself somewhere dark
secreted in a soft-settee recess
in an orgy of folds
origami gone barmy
a sheet in a surfeit of concertina’d creases
so that it might lose itself from my sight
such that it’s treasure
might never see the light of day

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 ‘it’ being?
why the greatest poem ever written!
that most hallowed of holy grails
the crowning glory of penmanship
the coronet of couplets
the revered scion of silky prose
a triumph of strophe

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 and the reason for its hiding?
well, maybe I’m not ready
to be discovered
and though the words
must be recovered
in the right order
and the right fashion
I can – meantimes – continue to verse
for at root, I know the passion
therein contained
and so my incessant search
must trawl through the innards
of metaphor, simile, alliteration
without obliteration
of sense, or soul or rhythm
to achieve a perfected beat
in contrast to
the exacted defeat
so beautifully imparted
in the doggerel departed
that detailed –
in imperious prose
how the mighty rose
and slew
the motley crew
in red
and how we fed
on the apophthegm of victory
swathed in our Blue regalia
cheered our heroes
with curious cant
of celery
in our celebration!



the title?

As in Muhammed Ali : the self-proclaimed Greatest!

Maybe it is best lost forever! 😉

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/ali-like/