The Beautiful, the Timeless, the Sublime   He thought it would be cool to write a poem, So, on a piece of paper, fresh and clean, He jotted words, then jotted more below ’em With offbeat punctuation in between. The second and the fifth lines he indented, Between odd pairs of words increased the gap, But, though he’d thought success was what he scented It turned out, on reflection, to be crap.   He wrote upon, then rubbished, reams of paper, Employed enjambment, assonance and rhyme Avowing he would substitute, for vapour, The beautiful, the timeless, the sublime; Then, “Fuck!” he said: “This racket’s for the birds; I’d rather shovel shit than shuffle words!” Peter Austin If you've any thoughts about this poem, please share them with Peter Austin.