when brain is tiny
he always was whiny
had a big heine
when on a campus
at times was a sourpuss
saw grass from the pampas
when saw grass we saw
which they had cut with a saw
shall be sent to a shah
was served with some slaw
was stuck with a straw
which was the last straw
combined with a claw
had been stuck in my bra
was against the law
at my skin would naw
would eat my meat raw
was against the waw
kind of would stutter
ate my toast with much butter
did mutter about clutter
Critics Beware!
Poets are vulnerable no less than anyone,
when fallen victim to outrageous critics.
As Shelley wrote, critics' darts struck Keats,
who blindly, cruelly, mocked 'Endymion.'
Lethal no less the heady potion fame.
Some drowned, took poison, died paupers or insane.
Yet poet-baiters must themselves take warning,
wrote Heine in his 'Winter Fairy Tale.'
Eternal lines, if barbed, outdo Hell's fierce burning.
'Time shall not heal when poets wield the flail.'
Our foes, wrote Paul, are not of flesh and blood
but powers of evil inhabiting high places.
Promethean fire consumes the evil and the good,
Iniquities have many masks and faces.
Alone the Word that spares the infant's life
to wrong proves mightier than every art of strife.