Poetry Pants

I’ve got my poetry pants on, they rhyme with my g-string

they can be worn in winter, even though they’re rather thin

I bought some Haiku y-fronts, I felt somewhat surprised

the label said 5,7,5, which is really not my size

Whilst in my prose pyjamas, my dreams just ramble on

they’d make me fall asleep for sure, if I wasn’t already gone

My limerick vest may tickle, though funny it sometimes aint

and my verse of distressed denim can be anything but quaint

My rubberised sonnet raincoat, lined fourteen times since dawn

with its three quatrains and a couplet belt, induces me to yawn

And my epic Complete Edition scarf, just goes on and on ... and on