Happy National Poetry Month

I was made aware that April is National Poetry Month.  In honor of this holy time of the year, I'm reblogging the shitty poem I wrote while I was supposed to be working last year for World Poetry Day (March 22, 2012)
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On this day in March, the 20th plus one

a million-million voices rise up beneath the sun

telling of red roses and violets of blue

buzzing bees, beautiful people, and tumbling kittens, too

Poorly composed, without a rhyme scheme or meter—

Oh! But those blossoms and her lips, what could be sweeter!

What is the cause of this commotion, you might say

You fool!  You fool!  Why today is World Poetry Day!

You need not talent, experience, or skill

Today we are comrades and your sonnet won’t be called “swill”

Our pretension and beards have both been left at home

So find a pen or pencil and get to work on your tome

Do not struggle for subject matter, just look inside

On World Poetry Day, your words you need not hide

Just cut open your heart and bleed right onto the page

Let the words flow from between the bards of your cage

Still at a loss?  Allow me to offer up some suggestions—

but please, I ask, wait ‘til the end to ask your questions

 

How about love, the greatest muse of all?

Or having sex up a tree, one that’s really, really tall?

A soaring eagle with wings spread wide?

Or doing it at the beach at low and high tide?

A double rainbow stretching across the peat bog?

Or getting it on in public, behind a curtain of fog?

Maybe the love and grace of an omnipotent God?

Or some hot, nasty action with some guy’s massive rod?

A springtime picnic in a green park?

Or what happens between the sheets after dark?

 

A pair of green eyes?

The intersection of two thighs?

A robin’s nest?

A heaving chest?

A hibernating bear?

That “come hither” stare?

The moonless night?

A kiss and a bite?

The shimmering ocean?

Or its subsequent motion?

Dew on a blade of grass?

Dew on a heart-shaped ass?

 

The possibilities are nearly endless, as you can see

So get to writing and let your pen wander free

And make the most of this World Poetry Day

Because tomorrow, “You’re shit” is what we’ll again say

“Uninspired, plodding, and pedantic” will be our review

“And the author knows not the difference between to, two, and too.”

Tomorrow you’ll again suck more than a vacuum hose

And we’ll insist you leave the business of Poetry to the pros.