David Smith Poet Grook

I Can Not Find the Words

I can't find the words,
And even if I could, would there be enough words,
To describe, 
To my scribe.
What I feel when I look at the news on my computer,
Before I become a commuter,
And find picture after picture
Pasted by reporters who need a lecture,
On how the reader can make sense,
When there seems to be no sense,
In pasting a picture that is totally unrelated
To the words in the story that is featured.

In my lecture I would be saying to these modern reporters,
And the editors,
To whom they are reporting,
Too many pictures you are importing,
At the expense of good reporting.

My heart goes out to those tasked with deciding,
Who gets an award for best reporting.
The only advice I can give them is to put their blinkers on,
As, with the pictures all gone,
They may find the list of reporters who can report, quite short,
And those whom to pictures, often resort,
Will find it less rewarding,
And we may see more words appearing,
With the odd picture we can see, as belonging.

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