Tributary

Others died on their end,

While some took notice of an easy way out.

Yet their life still goes on,

Upon each quatrain,

an iambic sensibility;

flow of rhythm rhyme and metre makes up,

of the craft of known and unknown.

What Frosted verse have I been hearing,

While all of guilt,shame and sin is never given,

but shown to me from A Milton perspective.

Then I am to take three which whom I want but I can hate,

Dante keep suggesting.

As a free thinking brain that was implemented,

Blake can make my noggin more heated than once more.

At the bend,

Mighty Emily talks none,

Writes more.

Gives some.

No matter subjects offended,

she will always and shall be the Queen of that verse,

While Sylvia cannot take any heat,

But a smoking hot mama,

Only to those can appreciate first her value,

to those of ethics, moral and tangent talent.

I know surely she was and a very smoking hot mama.