|
| |
A Real Poem Never Rhymes
A real poem never rhymes
Or uses titles for first lines
This singy, songy stuff of mine
Is not arresting, nor sublime
I‘m not here to start up trouble
But since I’m bursting people’s bubbles
Rhyming down to fours or doubles
Consigns your work to back page rubble
A real poem skips the meter
Shines its light on bottom feeders
Openhearted heavy bleeders
Wailing angst and spousal beaters
But free verse prose of twenty-something’s
Flaxen hair, young hearts a pumping
Skinny denim backsides humping
In thirty years will get its thumping
So here’s one thing that’s sure as shit
They’ll dig my grave then backfill it
Then say some little prayer and split
I hope it rhymes… I hope it fits.
[Nov 1, 2007]
| |
|
The
Poetry of Daniel Harrison