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Not A Poet
I’m not a poet, not by any means,
although it’s not for lack of times I’ve tried.
My head is vexed by rhyme and rhythm schemes,
and syntax fails me. In all fairness, I
consider myself skilled at writing prose,
or research papers fifty pages long,
but God (and if not God, my notebook) knows
my sonnet skills are surely seldom strong.
Alas, I can’t write poetry to save
my life. Moreover, every time I try,
I feel like Shakespeare’s rolling in his grave,
or Whitman’s ghost looks on and rolls his eyes.
Regardless, in this English class I stay,
and toil and type and hope to score an A.
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