This is what happens when software engineers discuss rhetorical devices in poetry on Friday afternoon. I’m too lazy to edit, so you’ll have to take a rough draft.


How now, apostrophe? What sayest thou
When I, with rude address, invoke thy name?
Wilt thou obscure thy rounded curve with shame
And mask your ebon dot I know not how?
Or wilt thou bend thy curve into a plow
Shaped in that forge my bellows brought to flame
To plow me under in my ill-thought game,
Address me worse than I call your name now?

Oh, take my name in vain, and lay to waste
My health, my life, the ruin of my taste.
Speak ‘thee’ with syllables both cruel and fast,
Rain coals of fire e’en as I confess;
Flick soft your whip, right there before the ess
And indicate possession at the last.


Subsequent discussion as to what the word ‘onomatopoeia’ could possibly sound like produced preliminary sketches of an elephant falling down a flight of pianos.