Millard Fillmore for President!

Opps, did that slip out?

What poetry form are you?

A cywydd llosgyrnog; I'm one. "A what?" Well, quite. There'd be no fun In being understood; I Thrive upon obliquity. Don't comprehend or follow me, For mystery's my ally. What Poetry Form Are You?

Main hall lobby

The bell is ringing,
People scurry.
Can remains comparing linguists
And I stand typing in the main hall lobby.

The public walks behind me
Thinking nothing of the
Plans and paths of
The only One who matters.

They breath His air.
They live on borrowed time.
They laugh and curse
Without a thought
Of wonder or dread.

Let me stop.
Let me at least slow down
To think of You
And see Your path
And breath Your air.