The Poetaster's Complaint

by

Wesley A. Storer

I am not a master poet
I am a poet disaster
I am a poetaster
They in authority who know
Say that poetry is verse
Of predictable syllables,
accents, stress, and rhyme
Which my imagination finds
My free expression binds
Beyond powers to define
So I write words in lines
Of uneven syllables and rhymes
Nameless as bastard chimes
In Yankee Doodle Time
Which makes me a poetaster
Disdained by that art divine
I have read many metered lines
Most of them bore me every time
With their stifling banality
But these diciples of discipline
Of superior character never give in
Some conceit likes them well

NEXT?
Why don't you look at The Passing
by: Phil Pochurek
from: Eugene, OR, US

To visit all of Wesley A. Storer's poems, click HERE

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