POEM: Poem

As part of what's becoming a Poetry-hating series of poems, this is the first poem that came about. It is rightfully titled: Poem. And it hates itself. Sort of.

Poem

by: Joel Feliciano
©2004/2006


Literate verses will not be found
between this and the next stanza,
they will have no rhyme,
they will have no sound,
Just a huge extravaganza
to tell people how I go around
writing the most literal words,
so they get meanings of mine
without hassles in their minds;
for this poem is for the worlds,
for all who long simplicity...
its for all whom I'd like to astound
by the nerve of this letter surround
which wants to keep you on and on,
reading with no thinking of before,
and enjoy the beauty of a con
with such delight, and credibility
and such passion, that you know
there won't be another stanza,
as I said on the verses before,
because this whole long rhyme blow
is just mechanics and lucidity,
and sun, and sound, and music, and fun.
So, soon will end this bonanza,
as your eyes must have already found:
this poem's end its near to the ground
and I hope its purpose was drawn.


October 2004