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The Drought of March
by
Greg Pincus

There isn't a doubt:
It's a poetry drought.

My wordplay is weak.
My images - bleak.
My pacing feels weary,
My word choices dreary.
My assonance? Blah.
And consonance? Ha!
My rhyme's a disgrace.
My meter's a bit inconsistent.
My similes whiff.
And zeugmas? As if!
My output's pathetic.
I'm just not poetic.

Oh! April's sweet showers
Please rebirth the powers
That March has neglected
(This one verse excepted).


I think I should dedicate today's poem to Ms. Harris, my 11th grade English teacher who made all her students memorize the first 18 lines of the prologue to The Canterbury Tales.  In Middle English. To be recited. Yes, in Middle English.

Many years later, the first four lines still rattle around in my head... and somehow, someway gave birth to this poem's title and close. I hereby apologize for thinking that this bit of memorization would never pay dividends.

Now, while I might be in a drought, there's been no such dry spell online. Don't believe me? Well, check out this week's Poetry Friday roundup over at Reading to the Core. Believe me now? I thought so.

And if you want to get all my poems emailed to you for freeee as they hit the blog, enter your email address in the box below then click subscribe:

The Poetry Games
by
Greg Pincus

This year the arena is packed to the rafters
With fans cheering loudly for favorite word crafters.
We all have our heroes. We call out their names.
We root and we hoot at the Poetry Games.

Our friends tell us stories of tourneys gone by
When last second sonnets would make the crowds cry.
When two well-versed poets both wrote clerihew…
When strong double dactyls defeated haiku.

Now, this year we listen and hear poets score
With assonance, consonance, slant rhyme and more.
We sigh for a stanza that sends our souls soaring.
We hide as the similes fall like rain pouring.

Crowd favorites emerge from the tales that they tell
In free verse, in ballad, and in villanelle.
A triolet sends one opponent to doom.
Another one drops to a perfect pantoum.

Soon only two stand. We all watch them fight on.
Nobody leaves as they write until dawn.
Then they lay down their pens in this battle of brains…
And a winner is named! Pandemonium reigns!

These Games are a fiction, though here’s what is real:
The power of poems to make us all feel.
Poetry speaks of the world as we know it,
So celebrate words, and go cheer for a poet.


I wrote this poem for Ed DeCaria's March Madness when I had to use the word "pandemonium" (under time pressure, no less). I have to say, it seems like a great poem to run right after National Poetry Month....

If you want to get all my new poems (and only the poems) emailed to you for freeee as they hit the blog, enter your email address in the box below then click subscribe!