‘Twas a poetry hater

Here’s a little holiday poem in honor of those who find poetry a bit difficult to enjoy!

‘Twas A Poetry Hater (dedicated to my sister)

‘Twas a poetry hater, who groaned when she saw

a poem on a page, like an unwelcome in-law.

She wanted it to go, get out of her sight,

she did not want to try to read it just right.

Poems were too weird, the figgy pudding of dessert—

you were meant to enjoy, but your tummy would hurt.

When she had to read a poem, “mmmmmm” she would say,

hoping the poet would soon go away.

She liked laughter and love, a swear word or two,

poems were so stuffy, symbolic and blue.

She slammed the book shut, said this is all crap,

and tucked herself in for a long winter’s nap,

when out on the shelf there arose such a clatter,

she sprang from her bed to see what was the matter.

Her poem books were braced and cowered in fright,

like Santa’s treats, sure to not make the night.

With ribbons and bows they hatched a great plan,

and when morning came, out the door she ran.

To all of her friends, she gave a great gift—

a poetry book that matched their interests.

And when she got done, there in front of her home,

a small little box full of “just right” poems.

They made her laugh hard and were full of great love.

And f—ing swear words? There were just enough of.

Two “just right” poetry books I received for Christmas!

If you have ever said “I hate poetry,” you are not alone. But, I’m definitely not going to let you land there—you are giving up way too easy. You don’t hate poetry, you just haven’t found your poet, your poems, and given yourself a chance. I’m not going to call you a psychopath (I’ll let Terrance Hayes do that for me—start at 3:10), but I will tell you to don’t give up. An undiscovered world is waiting for you!