POETRY MY *
Oh poetry, oh golden verse!
From sow's ear I weave thee to silken purse,
In flowing prose and metered times,
I pen my thought and hope it rhymes,
And when it doesn't, I scream and shout,
I curse my pen, and pull my hair out.
I blame the weather, the dog, the phone,
For surely the fault could not be my own,
How mercilessly I wrack my poor brain,
Till even my strangest friends think I'm insane.
It's sure not for wealth,
Nor could it be for fame,
For rare is the poet who wins at this game.
First I tried my hand
At Haiku but it turned out
Bad. No it won't do.
So then the very next style that I tried,
Was Tanka but that one also died.
How that is I know not why
But I did, give my very best try.
Then I tried a Calligram,
But it too, was not worth a damn.
Next I tried to do a Ballade
But that spelled disaster, I am afraid.
Next I tried to write
A lune. Could
Not get my words in.
So I wrote a cute little Limeric,
That really was quite neat,
But most of the words, I regret to say,
I cannot print, or repeat.
So then I tried to write Free Verse,
And things only went from bad to much worse.
If I tried one style of poetry,
Then I'll bet you that I tried them all,
From Astract to Sijo, Rondeau to Ghazal.
Lyric, Renga, Sestina, and chant.
But my best efforts seemed like a madman's rants.
Skeltonic, Blank, and Non-Sense Verse
(And just when I thought things could not get much worse!)
Epigram, Sonnet, Dada, and Sinquain!
It's enough to drive a madman completely insane!
Aerostic, Cento, and Villanelle too,
What in God's name is a poet to do?
Concrete, Visual, Ballad, and Beat,
And my favorite one, Senrya,
Is pretty darned neat.
All in all I had a rough time,
So from now on I'm sticking,
To verses that rhyme.
I should just give up all this poetry crap,
And go take myself a long overdue earned nap.
Charles Ramos Jr. 2003