There was a time when poets used their talent
to write great poems about the beauty of creation.
They did not use it to simply pay the rent.
These poets wrote their poems in a large variation
of rhyme schemes and metres without limitation.
But this golden age is over.
Poets have stopped looking for rhymes,
They just write a sequence of words,
With the hope that nobody minds
that they have no clear structure, meaning and rhyme,
and no metre.
Rhymes are not necessary anymore,
And they don’t count lines to write a sonnet.
Just write a few words, add a profanity like the word with f,
and you can call yourself a modern poet.
The great sonnets of William Shakespeare
Are no longer something to emulate,
The modern poet writes about beer
and about staying in the bar till late.
The sonnet was so pure in its form
That it was used in all kinds of languages.
Of course they differed a bit, as you might guess,
But they all followed the sonnet norm.
Three stanzas with four lines each,
Two rhymes in each of these stanzas,
And a metre suitable for dancers.
But sometimes a rhyme is out of reach.
In the end just rhyme the lines again,
And you can feel like a proud man.
My poetry is kind of poor,
But I’m trying to do my best.
There are cheaper ways to success.
The poet Jandl for example,
wrote about Otto and his mops.
A whole poem with just one vowel.
Easy I say I can do that as well.
Tim sits in Sing-Sing
Tim sings.
Tim is sick.
Sick Tim shits.
Shit stinks. Tim: Ihhh!
That was really easy, but Jandl went further.
He deleted all the vowels, I call this murder.
Wht’s th prblm wth tht.
Nbdy gts th mssg jst sm lttrs,
Tht’s nt ptry, tht’s nt vn lngg.
My ears are bleeding, my eyes hurt.
I give up; the modern poets have won.
It was a bad idea to write about them.
My poem is not nearly as good as theirs are.
Maybe they are talented after all.
I do not have enough talent to become a poet,
Not even enough to become a poetry critic.
My writing is just too absurd,
And that’s why this is my final word.
