For the Olympic Decathlon, a late entry that won't be counted... |
When The Critic, discouraged and depressed, is expected to perform Rants and Raves are then encouraged, the blessings announced, attitude transformed I hate poetry and the poets, but thank God I can follow instructions To skate rhyme schemes that create a poem is a whole day’s production In Writing a poem, I find facing a firing squad preferable Nothing can assist or unburden my belabored non-existent poet’s mind Going through labored poetic motions in this private netherworld of mine Decathlon Olympic Hades! I willingly joined The Milkman’s other volunteers Exhausted by the chilling whooshing sound of deadlines ghastly fleeting by and by Cold reality, of my own making, my failures paint a loud ugly, grim, sour note A chunk of fool’s gold has more worth than this senseless poetic gloat Troublesome words, like a phantom limb, form worrisome thoughts of which to write HA! I’ll read your tricky and challenging guidelines, lifewriter Little difference it will make, as I am more than a day late with this entry that I make Onward I write, through the muck and mire of my exhausted mind Never another good thought will my port harbor for The Milkman, or you either, Dear. ** Image ID #841973 Unavailable ** Created for
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