End Rhyme

Send in a poem they pretentiously beckon
But they will not read any rhyming of rhymes
There’s no place now for creative wordsmithing
Prose is the darling, full of self absorbed whines

The obtuse, the indulgent, the prosaic, they’ll read
And heap platitudes endlessly, on genius they’ll boast
While the rolled over graves of Cummings and Frost
Eternally cry with Dickinson’s ghost

Oh no, they can’t fathom the brilliance of rhyme
The Whittier’s, Sandburg’s, Longfellow’s  and Poe’s
Their cerebral magnificence today would sit stagnant
With rejection slips clogging the greatest word shows

And even the Doctor, Ted Geisel by name
On Mulberry Street with a shake of his head
Would cease with his foolish attempts at creation
And put Horton, the Grinch, and Yertle to bed

 

The Brain Eaters

The future of the universe
Lies in robotic dreams
Computers tell us how and what
And why and where it seems
It’s sacrilege to think it out
To find it on your own
The art of human effort
Destroyed by silicone

 

J. M. Lambert  ( actual name is John Michael Lambert ) is a guitar instructor who resides in Oregon, Illinois. He has previously been published in The Rose and Thorn Literary Ezine (Summer 1999); Mobius Poetry Magazine (September 2006); Forge Journal ( Summer 2011) ( short story). He also has a children’s rhyming Christmas Story published called : Firby Finds A Home   which is available here.

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5 Responses

  1. James A. Tweedie

    Great how you slipped in the names of so many poets and caught me by surprise by springing Seuss as a finale. Clever and well done–both poems.

    Reply

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