Keats On Feets

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A light-hearted jaunt with the Romantic era's greatest poets.

Keats On Feets

 

 

I pick my toes
and goodness knows,
I bury them in woolen hose.
Enduring heat and sweaty woes,
yet loyally they stay in rows:
and leadeth where my footsy goes.

 

 

And one by one, in every case,

where right advances, left keeps pace.

My feets traverse both time and space

through life and lands, with equal grace.

And o’er civilization’s wreck they chase,

whilst Shelley’s belly flops with lace.

 

 

Indeed what does a Grecian earn?

From G.G.B.* I’ll have to learn!

But doc, he says my feets must spurn,

as long as lungs both wheeze and burn,

the toesy travels, for which I yearn;

and far-flung steps must wait their turn,

‘til upon my Darien, my soul adjourn.

 

 

*G.G.B. = George Gordon Byron

 

by Steven P. Pody

Excerpted from "The Panoptikon"


Submitted: August 13, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Steven P. Pody. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Michael Pollick

“Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael. ...You haven't won the contest yet. If the judges are snobs for being anti-rhyme (which unfortunately for over 900 poets -- in operational reality, turned out to be the trusted staff of the very e-forum in which we'd placed our fees and our faith, and not the judges at all) then you get the other fun 's' word -- smug. Alas for you. Oh, and to refresh the secondary aspect of the subject, Booksie sugar-coated the whole process in a lie of judging misrepresentation.
Anyhoo, nice to be in on the 'in' crowd, eh? In fact, being a shield bearer for Booksie might help push you right over the edge into sacred winnerdom. Michael Pollick, Defender of the Realm of Prejudice and Lies and ...uh, Poetry. Also, you've changed the original subject of this email into your personal, and limited, homilies about your superior and wise experiences and writing -- as well as added a bountiful paean to your own greatness. Loverly touch.
Po-biz? What a disgusting appellation. It's called 'poetry' ...and it needs to be respected -- in all its forms, and by all its varied practitioners. ...And among the acolytes, each to the other.
As a finalist, you are tainted goods for an opinion of what I have brought up, but then again, you assume that I am a sour-grapes sore loser. You're just chock full of misconceptions, ain'tcha? Booksie.com ran a flawed and deceptive contest - but I don't for a second think that they did it maliciously. Call it stupidity to have betrayed over 90% of contestants by incompetence of perception and reality. Perhaps they will learn someday that poets are people of passion, and whether talented or not, feel what they do quite deeply. They deserve a fair trial of their work. ...Especially when they paid for the privilege. As for you, your piece is interesting, and if you triumph in the end, I (for what very little it is worth), would not gainsay the victory. You mean well, and I wish you a fine lifetime honing your craft. Cheers, SPP Poet. “
“There you go again, Michael, deflecting the issue to some nonsense about my being an inadequate writer and/or sore loser. Stay on point.
Let us review... Michael, there are important points at issue here, and don't ever let anyone tell you that you don't have value (unlike the 900+ pre-judged poems that were trashed without even so much as a glance by a genuine judge). You've been of great use to both sides. You've both given me a venue to argue my justice, and you get to act as proxy warrior for Booksie.com who hopes that nobody notices that, hiding behind you, they haven't had to answer and/or respond to the raised issues at all. Good job. Thou art loved. However, you never held the moral high ground, and lost the defenseless argument long ago.
“But before you go, I'd like to restate your magnificent single point that you personally advanced as the very pearl of ultimate wisdom. You said that the key to being a finalist and potential winner was to try harder, and to write something so superior that you will win. Whew! Let me carve that revelation in stone and wear it around my neck for minutes on end.
It's a shame that you didn't address what was being discussed - extreme prejudice against rhyme, and the misrepresentation that all poetry would be viewed and assessed by the advertised judges, and given a fair and uniform critical reading with all other works. That's what was advertised, and that's what authors paid for. I know many fine poems were thrown out as a pre-judged mass, not even seen by the judges. Shame on the process. Shame on the attitude. ...And shame on the perpetrators and defenders of such a flawed and intolerant 'competition'. Unless there is change, no rhyming poet should enter the 2021 contest, unless they like the notion of being ignored, and their money put in the pockets of those that disrespect and insult them.
Uneasy lays the crown... Congratulations to the Booksie 2020 Poet Laureate. You are a fine poet, I suppose, but please note that you are a crowned head and select representative of a more limited poetic universe than you may realize, justify or deserve.”
“Ah, Michael, lad, how did you get so far in life being so illogical? You haven't written poetry in 10 years because you were never more than a bloodless, passionless poet, mechanically writing your material - hence the lack of respect in labeling all poets and poetry as the 'po biz'. Now you've promoted yourself to lapdog of Booksie officials and hope your specious arguments will win you their favor and the top prize. Good puppy, I hope you make it.
Am sorry that you never read what I was talking about, and instead prefer to guess my motivations, transferring your not particularly deep personality onto my motives. But then, that is no doubt probably some of your smug charm. You're the biggest judge in the game, looking down your nose from on high. Yawn.
One rhyming poet, and 21 non-rhyming poets as finalists. A contest wherein the judges didn't even see over 90% of the contestents. False advertising, and misrepresented expectation. ...And there is Michael, with his imagined finalist trophy in hand, looking down on us all. What could be more fair and fun, you dried raisin of a person?
Now go away, and let the big people figure this travesty out. “
“Please do us all a favor and do walk away forever. You jumped into my discussion, you narcissist, not me into yours. Now go take your 'stupid is a virtue' attitude and go play elsewhere until your colorless little life ends, you little man. Poetic regards, SPP “
“Exactly. You thought you'd be working with master poets, and you weren't. ...Just like this contest. I'm glad I finally got through that thick, passionless head of yours. Now you understand why you, as a willing and unquestioning lapdog of the free-style clique, are such a detriment to the 'po-biz'.
You certainly are a good little boy, and I do hope that you win. It'll be a walk down memory lane for you, back to the era a decade ago. You remember don't you? ...The last time you thought you had any talent? Well, if you win, you can now be king of the 100 poets who were actually and fairly considered for this contest. But you aren't anything to anybody else. Just another smug old fart who disrespects his own craft, and treats most poets as an inside joke. Lovely. “

Sat, January 30th, 2021 12:56am

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Appreciate your advertising your shortcomings, Michael. I revel in the shock you must have had to have been a contest finalist one day, and booted for your arrogance and your disrespect of the poetry craft (and of other poets), all within a week. Reap as you sow, creep... P.S. Additional thanks for the statistical credit of getting a comment on my work. SPP

Tue, February 2nd, 2021 8:22pm

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