Once upon a time
There was a lonely haiku
Who died of neglect
There's a group of poets out there - they know who they are - who think they can call a poem by a defined term - like haiku, or sonnet, or villanelle - even if they're not following the rules. They think they're awful cool.
If they were really cool, they'd write (or one of them would write, proving that she or he was cooler than the rest of them) a book of poems of all the different kinds of poetry. There's probably more than what's on that list as well. Some really obscure shit. Yeah!
The reason that they don't, of course, is the same reason that they write a poem that looks like this:
Gentle evening rain in air
Washed the weary sun setting clean
Like a washed face over a basin
Getting ready to sleep
& call it a haiku - it's because they're lazy.
Lazy can be revolutionary, though. So perhaps they're cool after all.
No comments:
Post a Comment