Just to prove that despite becoming so technically minded in dissecting literary efforts–mostly my own for benefit of the learning process, I can still write bad poetry:
Autumn
Summer is crying
falling golden orange tears
wind brushes away.
(NOTE: Excellent example of editing and reworking: How, after squeezing inspiration into the boundaries of seventeen syllables by demand, ten words by choice, do we still need to go back and tweak? “Falling “was “shedding” for most of the day.)
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology