Pattern Recognition #1

Harsh Mistress - 04/08/2024

To tire of her is when your last breath goes
To attend to her; toil that never slows
To survive her ends - you'll be on your toes
She'll ransom your heart, corrupt your stand

She'll give you the dice and count down your throws; 
Strip your health, your wealth, your respite and repose
Yet she harbours more than any fool knows
To have dreamed, dared, desired or planned.  

Wits greater than I have delivered great shows
In her honour and yet her infamy grows
Perhaps, you're to ask the name of the rose?  
She's Babylon, Ruin, or Wonderland... 

Imperious, impervious - The Smoke!  
She has it all and you're still bloody broke.  

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Note: basically, poems I’ve attempted with some level of traditional or well-known form. They aren’t my best - I’m bad at grasping metre and so on and obviously there’s no need for it in contemporary poetry - just a bit of fun, really.