Not Bees that Soar for Bloom, Not Furness-fells

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

A truly awkward “poem” in its beat

And awkward wording, dwarf with broken bones,

Is how these lines lead onward to defeat

Of poetry.  This “poet” makes his moans

In Latinate vocabulary chopped

With commas.  Pitiful this critter made

By William.  Here the wonky wordsmith dropped

Mere poetry for thought.  The flaws cascade

Like Lakeland waterfalls though not with force.

Philosophy disrupts the flow of charm

We want for beauty’s lines becoming coarse

In hifalutin ways which choke and harm.

  His preachments and ideas replace the form

    Of poetry.  His crudities are like a swarm.