This was written for Carol Taylor, who ran the Sphere in the Mesozoic era (and popped up suddenly a few weeks ago, then disappeared again) and didn't like my habit (back then) of ending sonnets with an Alexandrine.
Alexandrine Ragtime
Come on along, come on and hear, you’ll want to cheer
the Alexandrine Ragtime Band. We top the stand,
we’ll take command, we are the grandest in the land!
If you’re keen on mean sestinas, set to ragtime,
and you like your Coke with brandy, Alexandrine –
beat your feet to rhythm? Hexameter each line?
Totally demented? You will like us big time:
we are the bestest poets what wrote a dithyramb –
your honeyed hams – the Alexandrine Ragtime Band!!
And this was one aimed at the legendary Alan Sullivan, who ran the Deep End when the Deep End was deep, and had a defeatist attitude about Triolets - particularly mine.
Critical Mass
“I don’t like triolets,” the critic states,
“I find them quite impossible to write
with grace.” Some may agree with his dictates –
I don’t! With poise and wit, the critic states
his point: my triolet accentuates
and twists his meaning, adds an insight
he won’t like. “Triolets,” the critic states,
“I find them quite impossible to write”
And Then He Wrote
Wheezerly, geezerly
Cantor the poet, he
hit on a dry spell and
couldn't write shit.
Finally, he sleazily,
double-dactylically,
twiddled and twaddled and
broke out of it.
Dear Poet: (Form Letter)
Thank you for your [brief description]
which we have read at [journal's name].
We recognize the erudition,
but must inform you, all the same,
that, though an elegant submission,
just now, we [show no one's to blame].
But please do purchase a subscription -
[imply acceptance then, and fame].
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