A Poem, I am.

A poem, I am

Thoughts from a poem as it taunts critical scrutiny

A poem, I am

a simple verse

trying to confuse

with all manners of words.

A poem, I am

a simplistic mess.

No license, allusions

or literal stress.

A poem

I am bic pentameter here?

No paradox. No similes,

nor verse to be seared?

A Poem, I am

no herds of clichés,

you’ve heard them before.

In me you shall find

not one metaphor.

A poem

“I” ronies here!”

A poem junkie leaps from her chair

(I wished she’d stay quiet and not really care.)

But she’s opened the door

To imagination once more.

A poem, I am

a dismantled dismay

my pretense discovered

my rhymes have been flayed.

A poem, I am

Please grant my reprieve.

Don’t look for false motives

with words that I’ve weaved.

Come, critics, dissect me,

have my words so deceived?

A poem, I am

your newest pet peeve.

—dj—

Scribbled during a creative writing class at University of Alaska Anchorage in 1985.