Her Nibs
Day in, and day out, from the ripe old age of five
I’ve take to sharp objects and whittled at their sides.
Plotting the precise angle with penetrating gaze,
the slant of slice, just so nice, as memory replays.
With curt tongue and tireless ire, I shred the sages
Burroughs, and Asimov, the Shakespeare past ages.
Butchering with rare delight, the language on the page
lancing every metaphor and simile upstaged.
and so I've arrived her in rhythm and in rhyme
killing the English language as other people dine.
*Nibbs are the pointed ends of fountain pens
as well as being an important or self-important person
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.
