Is there – my friend would like to know –
any reason
why
most poetry
is so rubbish?
My friend would like to be excused
from having one’s ears sorely abused
by being forced to listen to acrid rhymes.
Sacred, are the times
when the rest is silence –
as the Bard wroted.
Which Bard, it should be noted,
was also a poet –
my friend says that they endured one of his sonnets,
but wasn’t sure how far to throw it.
Graeme Sandford 