Get Your Premium Membership

For The Uninitiated Impostors

I feel a nauseating revulsion to see scraps of prose Bundled together in a neatened pile in the name of poetry, And prizes being awarded for such otiose verbiage And praises being heaped for such boring coquetry. Poetry, my dear uninitiated impostors, Is the language of the mute solemn gods. You ought to choose your nifty title well And thus commence your verse against the odds. Avoid Soyinka’s worn-out style of incompetent blank verse, Instead, give it the rhyme scheme of the unbeatable Yeats; The superior verse that one Tom Mboya has never read, The taste that a Kenyan editor will haul over the rooftop sheets. Line after line beg the company of some higher Muse So that you may pen the will of the gods and not your own; Alliterate here and there though you must not make it your aim, Then lunge into deeper thought with a deity-like melancholy tone. And never seek fame for your sacred poetic tasks. Leave the young to sing your lyrics centuries upon your death, And remember a great weaver of rhymes long deceased And pray and wish you immortal blissful health.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 6/17/2015 4:56:00 AM
Very good Hannington love, love it. Congratulation
Login to Reply
Date: 6/16/2015 1:37:00 PM
wonderful write, Hannington, a 7 and congratulations on your win
Login to Reply
Date: 6/16/2015 10:24:00 AM
Good job, am so proud of you. #7
Login to Reply
Date: 6/16/2015 7:27:00 AM
This is truly impressive! Congratulations!
Login to Reply
Date: 6/16/2015 7:25:00 AM
I think you covered it all, Mate. This one is now my personal favorite, deserving of 1st place (not that it really matters of course)
Login to Reply
Date: 6/16/2015 12:25:00 AM
nice win
Login to Reply