I am a bad poem.


I rhyme, sometimes.


It seems awkward, right?

I struggle with a simple

A A A A rhyme style.


I contain no smoothness or elegance;
I lack any idea of alliteration or consonance.
The paper has many cross outs, and you can’t really read the ?????Some lines look like they’ve been mangled
and robbed of all structure,
ad evry wrd spellt rong looses identatee.
I have no meaning.
Similes and metaphors go out the door
and suffer
like literature in a hurricane.
They become tattered and beaten
with their texts clinging
despondently to the trees.

The poor characters that appear on the paper,
as they gasp and beg to be freed
from a blank field laden with deficiencies,
are the only images I want you to
View, to
Feel.

Was I written for a dim
adolescent?
Or a child
whose miniscule mind can not
comprehend the complex concept
of having feeling or view? No.

I was written for you.

I desperately wring out any morsel
of beauty and grace
from my papyrus veins
to mask my mediocrity.

Perhaps I have performed a ploy,
and all my device hide
behind simple words and
understandable scheme?
The rubric doesn't agree.

I am a bad poem.
So simple
that I don't require you to
Think.
Oh the time you've wasted
reading this bad poem.