Poison Quills ... A Poem
This poem is not intended to criticize all professional poetry critics. Some of the pros are quite good, while others are terrible. I wrote this 'tongue-in-cheek' poem when I came across one who is the latter of the two when he unfairly criticized a newly-published poet.
The critics beckoned, soul for soul,
Through centuries unbound
The poet’s gift to judge their words
And measure pound for pound;
The poison quills that marked the past
Gave way to station keys
That fashion words with fatal clicks
In hallowed expertise;
As candle glows would dim the sight
Of wizened eyes in view,
The lumens flooding modern light
Will catch them still askew;
To censure those who write amiss,
The critic’s noble claim…
Has blushed to see the shifting tides
Sweep fresh a poet’s name;
No judge of verse will tether me
To words not savored true,
If solstice calls then heed I shall
To cleanse the taste anew.
@ 2011 Genna East All rights reserved.