So here we are.
Today’s Horribly Local Poor Poetry Month (HoLoPoPoMo) entry takes the opposite point of view from yesterday:
When writing poetry, it’s widely known
Slightly iffy rhymes are not verboten
As long as there’s a similar sound
Pretentious words are all that count
You need a smattering of “thee” and “thus”
Or metaphors like “my heart is but dust”
And anyway, who cares about the rhymes
It’s the beauty of the symbolistic lines
Trees and flowers and summer days
Awakening a time or place
The birds of May, the winter’s rain
The songs of love that play again
So suck it, all you hard-line fools
I got a license... I can’t lose
I think this would be a good time to remind you all: It’s Poor Poetry Month. Poor. You get what you pay for, kids.
Yes indeed. Welcome to me.