Written or spoken for exciting pleasure
by, beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts.
Poetry is my disease of mind,
Spreading through every dusty corner.
To read it, to write it,
Is how I will spend my time;
But let me fill you in,
on some peeves of mine.
I hope that when you choose to retire,
You will not utter,
"Now that I am done,
I think I fancy to become,
A poet like no other."
For surely you must understand,
When poets choose to retire,
We do not become surgeons or bankers.
For those things we have never studied,
And would not want our reputations muddied.
Next page upon my list,
A dark and shadowy grievance.
In the lurid depths of a soul,
In death, and torture, and a deep mist;
In the cavernous maw of adolescence,
live poems of razors and tears.
I judge most pools are shallow,
and best to wait until ones mind has mellowed.
Works written solely for catharsis,
Points to an author who is a narcissist.
Writing is an art for others,
For the great necessary evil we call readers.
Not to say no good at all may come of this,
Surely from experience is how we learn.
But, our goal should be to teach,
To share and not self-serve.
This is how we come to inspire,
And teach the world how to aspire.
About one peeve I cannot be discrete,
It is that poetry we call "Concrete."
It is purely my opinion that is is quite....
silly silly silly silly silly silly silly
silly P R E T E N T I O U S silly
silly silly silly silly silly silly silly.
Disclaimer:
These are the rhyme,
And these are the reasons,
For my own personal complaint,
Against our fair art.
It takes all sorts,
And it takes all kinds.
Write with your mind,
And write with your heart.
Beauty resides
In all shapes and forms,
Don't feel pressured,
To write like the norm.
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