I shall never be a poet.
I’m so glad I finally know it,
for I’ve struggled with this genre far too long.
Though I seek to paint a picture
framed in phrase and rhyming structure,
the verses that appear are still quite wrong.
I’m not sure about pentameter.
I’m really quite an amateur
at this use of words to pictures paint.
Whether couplet or enclosed rhyme
I’m sure I waste the reader’s time
because a poet, I’ve determined, I just ain’t.
One sage tells me not to rhyme it
while another says, ‘Just line it
out, and let the phrases flow.”
But I fear my brain is shackled,
and my words soon become raddled
with the rhythms that cause them to dosey-doe.
I confess I cannot capture
All the ethos and the rapture
that great poets of renown are famous for.
So, instead I’ll simply word play
with the thoughts I feel I must say,
content to rhyme away, forevermore.
I wrote this for fun in response to studying poetry techniques and critically critiquing my own work, so I hope it brings a smile to you on this Friday morning.
I’ve decided that, although I will continue to persevere, my poetry may never live up to the high standards of the genre.
I think I am okay with that.