Damn, but I Hate Poetry

Damn, but I Hate Poetry

Damn, but I hate poetry-
writin’……not readin’.
It’s a disease, like
compulsive sex, or shop-
liftin’, and if you can’t
count, and all your rhythms
sound as if beat out by a
one-legged tap dancer, and
after a thousand stubs
of pencil and a rain
forest of waste-paper,
you rhyme puce with moose-
knowin’ that some candy-
assed aficionado will
delight in observing that,
aside from a stomach churnin’
image, it’s really not a rhyme-
and you’ll curse and cry and
struggle not to put a pen-
cil through an achin’ eye-
your unconscious will sput
an image almost as pure as white
chickens, and red wheel-
barrows, and rain water,
like a nocturnal emission,
and you’ll wonder, maybe, maybe

Goddamn, but I hate poetry.



About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
This entry was posted in Poetry ? and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Damn, but I Hate Poetry

  1. PennyD says:

    😀 Love this. So true.


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