We play the good-poetry/bad-poetry game.
Is our poetry bad?
Everyone whose poetry is good gets to go home
early, while the rest of us have to stay until the bell
rings and be glad
of it, playing the good-poetry/bad-poetry game
until we drop. OK, so who’s to blame
for this smarmy poetry trad?
(Whoever it was got sent home
for good.) Old MacDonald had a farm,
and on that farm he had
a sad bull-steer who played the good-poetry/bad-poetry game,
when the truth was, nobody’s fuzzies are warm
about whether their own poetry is good and not bad.
Let’s all take our rhymes and go home
and not worry if they’re worse than everyone
else’s. Maybe someone will enjoy reading
them, but the good-poetry/bad-poetry game
leaves the audience at home.
