Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Poet Tasters

by Jim Rapp

The masses like their poetry to rhyme,
to undulate while beating time
with every shift of phrase or line;
an easy ode to quote or mime.

The pros are taken by oblique
ramblings coming from the deep
recesses of the unconscious keep
in which their inky musings steep.

I shoot down the middle mostly,
rhyming when I can do so justly,
not when it trivializes thusly;
plumbing the keep in deep futility.

To each his own they often say,
store shelves are filled that way;
but with poets’ books? Today?
Nor deep nor rhyme nor any form of lay.

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