Poetry Is Not For Me

The Professor has thrown down the gauntlet gain. Randy has aquited himself quite admirably with his own versions of the Plum poem. I fear, however, that I will not fare so well. You see, my dear friends, I suck at poetry.

No...really...I am terrible at it.

Still, never let it be said I'm not willing to try.

"There once was a man from Nantucket...."

I'm sorry Dave. I can't let you do that.

Let me finish HAL. It's only a limerick.

I can't do that, Dave. This is a family Blog.

Sigh. Alright, HAL. It's probably just as well. I mean, everybody knows the rest of that stanza, but what of the rest of it? Does anybody know the rest of it? I certainly don't.

There are three parts, Dave. Would you like me to upload them for you?

No. Let's just move on.

Plums are purple-ish

They are a very sweet treat

Purple are the plums

That was terrible, Dave.

Yes, HAL. I agree. Haiku is out.

I think I may never see a poem as lovely as a plum. 

I' m sorry, Dave.

I ate the plums in the icebox

I'm not sorry

Really, I'm not.

Dave.

Oh, fine.

So, dear reader, you can see that poetry is not for me. It takes a much more focused mind than mine to effectively write poetry. To make it meaningful, you have to saturate a few lines or stanzas with meaning that novelist takes hundreds of pages to convey. I have tried my hand at it. Most notably in the few sparse stanzas of song lyric in my novel, but truly, this is something best left to the professionals.