OPEN MIC
A poet reads his own poems
Because it's sad but true
He is the only one who thinks
They're good enough to do.
It takes a lot of nerve, you know,
To stand and say out loud
Those thoughts you felt were so profound
Until you saw the crowd.
I only hope the audience will clap
And no one knows
That though I try to hide it,
The emperor has no clothes.
SNAP SHOT©
As a picture is saved by a camera,
A poem preserves an emotion.
A
yearning that quickly sails by,
And is swept to the depth of the ocean.
A poet must stop all he's doing,
And scribble that word picture then.
Delay could mean losing a
memory
That may never sail your way
again.
WORDY POETS©
The wordy poet submerges his craft
And buries his reader in verse.
The loquacious one is a bane to the art
And his garrulousness is a curse.
But the poet that says what he wants in few words
Makes a jewel of each separate riposte.
For I tell you, my friend, what discerning men know
That with few words the poet says most.
Free Verse
Why is it almost every living poet writes free verse,
And almost every dead one writes in rhyme.
Does something "click" in place when they are carried to the hearse.
And all their free verse changes at that time.
And why do judges oft times go and pick such awkward prose
And "tart" it up as modern poetry,
When most of us are well aware, and everybody knows
That prose is prose and true verse isn't free.
Do you suppose the discipline that rhyming verse requires
Presents a challenge that is way too large
And we must just hold on until these modern guys expire
And free verse means once more "there is no charge."
THE PUBLISHED POET©
A Published Poet is a marvelous sight,
A wonder that few men have seen.
This fellow has crafted mere words that ignite
A publisher's heart like benzene.
This creature's so rare that you may not have known
That he stops short of being extinct.
But I'll tell you right now, though I may weep and moan
And my groanings may not be succinct,
That when all's said and done, and I'm long overdue
I refuse to be placed on the shelf.
For I'm bound to be published - whatever I do,
If I have to print each page myself.
GIFTS FROM A TOUGH DAY©
I had a tough day all week long -
It went from bad to worse.
But it's worth a tough week any day -
If my muse hands me some verse.
A QUESTION
I'd like
to know, dear teacher,
Please tell me if it's
true
If every time you get a poem
It's
always one too few?
THE
POME
I don't know where it came from
Don't
know if it stands alone
But today I'm a happy
woman
'Cause today I wrote a
pome.
MY OPINION OF SAPPY
POEMS
I do not understand them -
I know
it must be me.
But self-explanatory
poems
still suit me to a tee.
Copyright 1998 Judy Sadler
