A more inappropriate word
I believe I have not found
it just doesn’t bear examining,
like most other words around.
The word is cursive,
a most contradictory word.
Beautiful writing bound with ugly speaking…
a concept, frankly, I find absurd.
When one pounds one’s thumb with a hammer
elegant lines and flourishes don’t appear.
Instead what falls south from an undisciplined mouth
is more like an eruption from a gassy rear.
I’ll readily admit,
It’s a craft I’ve never mastered.
I mean the writing part,
my handwriting is a disaster.
An artist with a pen I’m not,
though mostly the letters find their right place.
So I decided long ago to not try,
thus saving face.
Now cursing, as a boy,
I recall being quite good at.
At least it was effortless,
especially when I was at bat.
But then after introspection
following a revelation from the Lord,
I turned over a new leaf,
cleaned up my act
and found language I didn’t abhor.
Now I admit the occasional slip,
like the other night when half of my poem disappeared
I did let one rip.
To the cat and dog I apologize.
If I ever pick up that bad habit again,
feel free to claw me down to size.
© Joel Tipple