False Start
It sprang upon me,
a clawed metaphor
not anything real,
but a shaggy crypto-beast.
Hand picked alliterations
scatter like litter.
Then the seductive purr
the mannered modes, the manicured forms
those deftly obvious diphthongs
that like spoor, lead to more -
the unmistakable reek of
a force-fed poem
The first step they say is recognition,
the second step is to admit
a laryngeal contrivance.
The third step is to clean up
without complaint,
when it poops all over the page.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
