Bill Roberts
A Thing So Boring
I think that I shall never see
a thing so boring as a tree.
A tree to me, standing there, is all you see,
arms raised to heaven, praying for rain or dog pee.
Admittedly, a tree can be
quite beautiful when leaf-ed ful-ly.
But, like this poem of curs-ed rhyme,
a tree just stands there all the time.
Does nothing, does a tree - gives shade,
of course, with summer's lemonade.
But shade doth fade as chill invades the glade,
forsaken leaves on ground below splayed.
So tell me not of its beauty, cutie.
I prefer a tree that works, is rather fruity.
Ah, here under the banana tree or apple,
with thoughts of gravity I grapple.
Ouch, what hit me on the head like lead?
'Twas Joyce Kilmer, whom I thought dead.
Thus I promise the black bird, as you snore:
Write again in rhyme? Nevermore.
Bill Roberts gives seminars on how to write a poem a day in 15
minutes, then take it to market. He's written ten thousand, had a
thousand published online and in small-press magazines. Retired from
nuclear weaponry, he does what he can to see that someday all WMD
are negotiated into extinction. One of his poems was nominated for a
Pushcart Prize in 2009, another for Best of the Net. Bill can be
reached at marcorosie@comcast.net.
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Current Issue: April 2010
Taylor Copeland
Taylor Graham
Carol Lynn Grellas
Karen Kelsay
Bill Roberts
Russell Rowland
Lucille Shulklapper
Kelsey Upward
Patricia
Wellingham-Jones
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