were it not for the Internet, on this old plane
this new ballad would hardly be writ
with no access to Rhymezone, my verse would be plain
though not free, it’s enhancing my wit
realizing I’ve joined a peculiar club
metric poetry written on high
for a membership — and, this is hardly a snub
choose a meter and write while you fly
be it worthy of praise or a generous groan
not a masterpiece — surely you jest
but the masterpiece writers, they’ve all long since gone
of those born on a plane — perhaps best
we are landing, and soon, leaving nothing to chance
I shall end on this final quatrain
oh I’m glad, oh so glad, that in this circumstance
I did not choose to travel by train
© 2022 Arthur Cruise
Can be sung to the tune of …