"THIS BEE IS NOT TO BE," I SAID

                   Mishap While Painting a Dahlia on Rice Paper

                    “Out, out, damned spot. I like you not,” I said.

                               I added legs and then a dot.

                                     A sort of head,

                                     A set of wings.

                             I studied the result (a bug)

                          And uttered my opinion (ugh).

                          “This bee is not to be,” I said.

                          “I’ll make a butterfly instead.”

                       The more I drew, the more it grew

                      And grew until the spot was worse

                     And drew from me a muttered curse.

                        “Out, out, yon butterfly,” I said,

                      Crisply chopping off its head and

                        Cropping quite a bit of dahlia.


                        Shit! My effort was a failyah.

                "The hour is late; I’m going to bed," I said.

                           I put my sumi brush away

                      And vowed I’d try again one day.