Dear John Poem
This is for you—dear Mr. Reid—
who judge too few who do succeed,
when at submissions, blurry-eyed,
you read and read, get mystified
at "poets" you must wish to scathe—
their poems need a paper lathe!
Cut to the center of the pile,
as many lodgings aren't worthwhile.
Those titles—stinky—rhymers who
don't know one syllable from two,
or fake a rhyme, no metric feet
that make a rhythm sound complete.
But even free verse needs a scheme
which ties into poetic theme.
Some assonance could be quite nice;
internal rhyme—that would suffice,
or metaphor (and symbols too)
might end the yawning you must do.
Those Docx files do turn up strange,
and murky meanings need to change.
From bunglers who submit by snail
whose work must meet the garbage pail—
leave entry fees completely out—
their typo typing gets no clout.
Perhaps they haven't read the rules
or simply just don't have the tools.
Where expertise has fallen short
you surely want to rant, retort
on weirdo fonts and colored ink
that tax the eyes and make you blink.
I've read your writing tips: I'll say
they've helped my pen along the way.
Here's hoping others read your tomes
or keep THEIR entries in their homes.
And sir as you can plainly see
this is no goodbye rhyme from me.
I've said my piece, so iamb done
and maybe reading THIS was fun.