Poetry 202
Categelophobia
Ouch, that big word
The fear of ridicule
of being termed absurd
Believe in yourself,
Believe in your art
Let people laud
Or let them fart
Take your pen everywhere
Bed, office, and also to the loo
Whether asleep, at work
Or even while you poo
Shut out the cynics, but let
Constructive criticism permeate
Today they smirk, tomorrow
They'll dub thee Poet Laureate
10 comments:
Jeez, being a gazillion years older than you, I hope to still be alive when you finally get that Poet Laureate thingy. That way I can raise my whiskey in a toast to mon ami Prometheus (even though I don't drink whiskey).
Dear Prometheus Looney Stevenson,
I hereby acknowledge your genius (if I havent done that already.)
W
Oh, is it?
you have got company.
First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.
- Mahatma Gandhi
Lizza dearest, none but Zeus is older than Prometheus. And thou shalt live long, the Gods need good people on earth. You may toast Prometheus with a tipple of your choice. Dom Perignon?
Thanks Woke. For the rest of the readers, this poem was in response to Woke's post on his early exit from poetry. And thus, Prometheus thanks Woke who has verily caused this poem to be created. He hopes Woke will achieve REAL glory with his poetry, unlike Prometheus.
Jules, thanks for stopping by. Prometheus eagerly awaits your next post. However, he and the Mahatma would be a bit like sour milk and cheese.
My next post is already up, Prom. My PC is down. I am accessing the net from the college net lab! Which kinda explains the lull.
I quoted Gandhi coz i have experienced the same in my life.
And in that hope of recognition
elusive as it is
we raise our cups of absinthe
in the shadow of a life more normally lived.
***
Weeeeelllll. I tried to rhyme them. I promise I tried. At the end of every line I begged and pleaded, but they wouldn't listen.
sigh.
Man, u get more entertaining by the day
SS
Another great poem.
I couldn't write a witty poem...er...a poem in less than a year. How long does it take you to put this together? 5 min?
H - You and Prometheus must do that absinthe thing once. Wot?
Thanks SS -Prometheus aims to please.
Adrian - It would sound pompous, and Prometheus hates saying it, but the poem writes itself through him. He can't write a poem when he wants. The poem writes itself in 5 minutes, when it thinks its good and ready.
When Prometheus brings his fiery self to these parts [with an illegal bottle of absinthe stashed in his boot] we shall invoke Bacchus at a moonlit revellery.
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