Poets and Pans

Who is in the kitchen

clattering poets with pans?

A critic of the written rhyme,

or avid poetry fans?


The poet receives a telling blow,

‘You’re shallow, and quite boring;

you have no skills at all!’


Not a thing a poet wants to know,

then he escapes into the hall.


‘I’ll have you know…

my rhymes are so—


that my muse you cannot quell!’


‘You can stick your rhymes,

those awful crimes,

in some forsaken well!


The poet ran,

as poets can ,

away, and far, and over the hills;

and wherever it is he now works in a bar,

the customers’ drinks he spills.


4 responses to “Poets and Pans

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