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"All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling."

So here's a bit o' genuine feeling from my genuinely feeling heart to your genuinely cringing brain.

Ode To A New Year's Resolution

No, that will never do.

An Ode Of Epic Proportions To A New Year's Resolution

That's better.

Of all the cliches Americans rehearse,
I'm thinking of calling you the most worst.

But that is bad grammar and don't rhyme, you say.
I say...
This poem is no place for chatter.

Last year they made promises (nobody sought them).
Some said they'd send Christmas cards (nobody got them).

But almost nobody wants those cards, you say.
I say...
It's the principle of things that matters.

But that really doesn't rhyme, you say.
I say...
Chatter matters only to mad hatters.

In fact, you're a nuisance, a pestilence, a bore!
If the raven were here, he'd croak 'nevermore!'

...He might quoth instead of croak, you say.

Didn't I tell you to shut up?
Anyway, to sum things up...

And you can shut up about my rhymes too.
'Up' and 'up' rhyme--can't dispute that, can you?

The making of you is such a dreadful habit
And so I have nothing to yell but, "WHITE RABBIT!"

'Tragedy! Misery! The whole thing's bunk!
'The rhymes were all shoddy, the meter plain stunk.
'The only thing epic was its disaster--
'You couldn't hold it together with plaster!
It's
not even of ode-ic proportions!' you cry.
So I say 'Whatever,' and then say 'goodbye.'
Read More 2 Missages | scribbled by Unknown edit post

2 Missages

  1. Anonymous on January 1, 2009 at 1:18 PM

    I like it!!!

    I can't write poetry to save my life! You should write more.

     
  2. Marigold on January 1, 2009 at 5:24 PM

    :-D That was hilarious!!

    And a happy new year to you, too. :-)

     


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