These weak attempts at verse could not be droller.
Your stuff is less inviting than ebola
(but not as catchy). Wordier than Emil Zola,
you haven’t got the steam to be a roller.
I’ve seen more cutting-edge in Pepsi-Cola.
You clearly honed your style in Fuengirola.
About as challenging as last year’s “¡Hola!”
(I’m sure you’re highly thought of in Angola.)
But that aside, I need a favour, mate.
The flood of would-be Shakespeares is in spate.
I’d like you to review – that is, donate
your time and talent (at the going-rate,
which happens to be zero.) Desecrate
the pricks who prattle, and the prigs who prate.
Denounce, detract. Indulge that gelding hate
that wells in all of us. The cut-off date
is looming, so get hacking. Don’t be late!
a letter to my editor
I have tried to get more cash to spend
on introducing me to a bigger audience
I contacted many of my readers on X and asked for
A contribution sent to Hillshire will not come
amiss so far nothing.
I could have asked the man himself, but I will not
He suffers from the insecurity that rich people
People who suffer from that, we like them for the money
I happen to like Elon Musk because he struggles
with a deep-seated shyness like my brother did
So his life is not that easy
So, therefore, just print the en book and send
a couple of copies to me, I shall be nothing more
than mulch in the acre of poetry
“You got the goldfish interview, as asked?”
“I did, sir, but he lacked the wherewithal
to answer me coherently, I fear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? The fishing section
is looking pretty thin. You showed up masked?”
“Of course I did. That goldfish flu’s no joke.
He said he’s scared of casual infection.”
“Your killer question, then? Your master stroke?”
“What is the capital of Senegal?
My curver, that one: it’s my knuckle-ball.”
“You got a cogent answer?” “Nowhere near.
He knew, he said, but couldn’t now recall.”
“His love life? Did you ask?” “He yelled, objection!
He said, that’s why he hates newspaper folk.”
“But that’s the very thing with which you’re tasked –
to get the sexy stuff! You think he’s *****?”
“He said he’d tell me after taking coke.
It seemed to me a little circumspection
might do the trick.” “Unmitigated gall
is what I call it. What I want to hear
is, if he’s in that witness thing – protection.”
“I got the feeling he was trying to stall –
I probed him, but he had no recollection.”
Editor edits
News Gazette called " Elephant "
In Helen ville.
Written for poetry contest sponsored
by Constance la France
“Seven reasons your novel won’t sell!”
You “a writer that’s had” your work quelled?
A writer that’s had?
Now, that’s pretty sad;
I’d say eight, but these days, one can’t tell!
----------
SMH: ads popping up on my Facebook feed...
Submission
By Beverly Stock
I called the editor knowing
That my temper would be showing
And said the following to him:
“I sent a poem here, sir”
(I said growing fiercer,)
“And the subject which
I’d chosen, Sir, was Spring.”
“ I just scanned your paper,
By sunlight, torch and taper,
Of my poem, I do not see a thing”
He spoke, I’m sure it was a fib,
Said he, smug and very glib,
“Of the sixty-one submitted, we printed one.”
“And we’ve decided they should be divided
Among the years then reunited
With a new one each succeeding Spring.”
“Your submission, I’m pleased to mention-”
Will receive our best attention
In our Spring Edition - 2081.”
Dear Editor
David J Walker
Dear editor
How is it that you will
Make my thoughts better
Rearranging words and
Changing cadence
At your leisure
The poetry that constantly
Parades between my retina and
Cranium
One pass wonders that I must
Describe going by as if jugglers in
A gymnasium
That might drop the balls
But always catch them before
Any fall to the floor
Of your cutting board
Dear editor
Maybe you can make it better
But for now
Go away and leave me alone
No words to express my gratitude
For thine is an affectionate attitude
After a huge hiatus thou are back
Like a diamond from jewel stack
A few bonds flourish with time
And their echoes forever chime
Fortunate to have a techno savvy
As my editor of videos many
May thou excel in arts and skill
Accomplishing all tasks uphill..!!
The Poet's Condition
by Michael R. Burch
(for my mother, Christine Ena Burch)
The poet's condition
(bother tradition)
is whining contrition.
Supposedly sage,
his editor knows
his brain's in his toes
though he would suppose
to soon be the rage.
His readers are sure
his work's premature
or merely manure,
insipidly trite.
His mother alone
will answer the phone
(perhaps with a moan)
to hear him recite.
Alternate Title: "Poetry Slam: The Hangup"
Keywords/Tags: poet, poets, poems, poetry, poetic expression, rhyme, editor, publisher, mother, readers, recite, recitation, reciting, performance, writing, reading, rap, slam, phone, telephone
The Better Man
by Michael R. Burch
Dear Ed: I don’t understand why
you will publish this other guy—
when I’m brilliant, devoted,
one hell of a poet!
Yet you publish Anonymous. Fie!
Fie! A pox on your head if you favor
this poet who’s dubious, unsavor
y, inconsistent in texts,
no address (I checked!):
since he’s plagiarized Unknown, I’ll wager!
E-xceptional
L-ine
I-s
Z-estfully
A-llowing
B-rilliant
E-ditor
T-o
H-ave
B-road
A-ptitude
R-egarding
R-ighteous
E-xpression
T-ill
T-ruth
B-rightens
R-eaders
O-f
W-ise
N-ote
I-n
N-oble
G-oal
Topic: Birthday of poetess Elizabeth Barrett Browning (March 06)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
To wit, the editor
the murderer’s axe
To slay the innocent
with sharp attack
To wit, the editor
last drop of blood
Now drained and syphoned
—in victimhood
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)
Editor Who Had A Crediter
Evidently there once was an editor;
Extremely cautious about creditor;
Was an exhibition,
Of some sedition;
He appeared on page as a predator.
Jim Horn
C-ool moment of the editor
H-as warmed her heart;
E-arly Wednesday April twelfth, new morn is a fresh start.
E-ditor's cool moment
S-ilently soothes her mind;
T-V program on Net 25
R-eally is one of a kind.
E-very episode she edits
L-ets the show truly shine;
L-ove, faith, and hope conveyed
A-re making the viewers fine.
D-ay of her birth has come, oozing with bright color;
O-verwhelming wishes fill the cool moment of the editor.
These vain attempts at verse could not be droller.
Your stuff is less inviting than ebola
(and not as catchy). Wordier than Emil Zola,
you haven’t got the steam to be a roller.
I’ve seen more cutting-edge in Pepsi-Cola.
You clearly honed your style in Fuengirola.
About as challenging as last year’s “¡Hola!”
(I’m sure you’re highly thought of in Angola.)
But that aside, I need a favour, mate.
The flood of would-be Spensers is in spate.
I’d like you to review – that is, donate
your time and talent (at the going-rate,
which happens to be zero.) Desecrate
the pricks who prattle, and the prigs who prate.
Denounce, detract. Indulge that gelding hate
that wells in all of us. The cut-off date
is looming, so get hacking. Don’t be late!
Sub Categories
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