What monster? There is a vapid creep about.
If one says, "I don't like it." she will pout.
She wonders why they read and run away.
Again they come to gawk but do not say.
Her anthem is: "My Booksie ‘tis of thee...
Mutual admiration society..."
Her inspirations travel from her soul
The English language sometimes thwarts her goal
Perhaps it's me that does not understand
The lovely way her spirit moves her hand
Am I ungrateful if I forget it?
Should I leave the comment: "I don't get it."?
Mom said: "If you haven't got something nice to say...
Don't say it." You don't know me anyway.
So, when it stinks, should I mention the smell?
Maybe you shouldn't ask and I won't tell.
Oh, and while you're at it... learn how to spell.
|
Email this Poetry
|
Add to reading list





