Who Am I In Poetry
Who am I in poetry?
I’ve not been hiding it:
A human deposit of serio-comic wit,
Who feeds another with the fairly fake
And makes him the consumable thing take
In either decided good faith
Or snort-rid breath…
A maker of another less quick
To denounce a played trick
In lines permitting fantasy parking spaces
But of this kicking over the traces;
No risky conjecture that one would never guess
But that some wearer would eagerly try the dress
From unplanned artificiality
Planning sugary originality
A part pursuit of Sapir-Whorf Relativity
That has my pen entrusted untiring activity:
Their classic theory that words suggest thoughts
Which the serio-comic now massively courts;
What the Sun Magazine possibly knew
But wouldn’t want to near ‘the mysteriously new’.
So, that’s whom I’d been in poetry;
Please, only rubber bullets from the Poetically Military.
Copyright © Chinedum Ekwobi | Year Posted 2021
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