I'm not a big fan of poetry, but every once in a while I run across a poem that "speaks" to me. A copy of this one hangs on my kitchen bulletin board.
Triolet on a Line Apocryphally Attributed to Martin Luther
Why should the Devil get all the good tunes,
The booze and the neon and Saturday night,
The swaying in darkness, the lovers like spoons?
Why should the Devil get all the good tunes?
Does he hum them to while away sad afternoons
And the long, lonesome Sundays? Or sing them for spite?
Why should the Devil get all the good tunes,
The booze and neon and Saturday night?
A. E. Stallings
I especially like poetry that adheres tightly to highly controlled, tried-and-true forms like this tiolet; it makes the poet's skill all the more apparent.
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