Licentious License

For today’s prompt, write a license poem. There are many different licenses available to people. Fishing license, driver’s license, license to plate, license to kill, and marriage license. Poem doesn’t have to be about the license, but it could mention a license, happen at a licensing office, or well, use your poetic license.

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Licentious License

I’ve been studying for my license.

My Gluttony comes as easy
as pouring another glass of red
as does my Pride,
since I self-published
that chapbook of food poems.

I keep hidden the Envy
for my fellow poets
as they get for-real published
and Sloth will settle
after this poem-a-day April.

I’m worried about my Greed.
If I had any interest
there, I wouldn’t be a poet
and, for some reason, Wrath
doesn’t flare now that I’m old.

I write at this table of strippers,
toasting another week’s end
with loud music, expensive drinks
and lots of scantily clad inspiration,
so I expect a perfect score in Lust.

Wish me luck!

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker was born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough, North Carolina where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
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4 Responses to Licentious License

  1. JeanMarie says:

    I’ll offer you a selection of chocolates, then when you reach for the finest one, I’ll snatch it for myself. That should get you that shiny laminated license. You’re welcome.

  2. Lisa Tomey says:

    I think it’s a license you must dangle from a golden, corded lanyard with tassels.

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