A Thing So Boring
Author: Bill Roberts
I think that I shall never see
a thing so boring as a tree.
A tree to me, just standing there, is all you see,
arms raised to heaven, praying for rain or dog pee.
Admittedly a tree can be
quite beautiful when leaf-ed ful-ly.
But, like this poem of cursed rhyme,
a tree just stands there all the time.
Does nothing, does a tree – gives shade,
of course, with summer’s lemonade.
But shade doth fade as chill invades the glade,
dead leaves on pavement splayed.
So tell me not about its beauty, cutie.
I prefer a tree that works, is rather fruity.
Ah, here under the banana tree or apple,
with thoughts of gravity I grapple.
Ouch, what hit me on the head like lead?
‘Twas Joyce Kilmer, whom I thought dead.
Thus I promise as you snore:
Write again in rhyme? Nevermore!
(Published online in the April 2010 issue of Thick With Conviction)
Note: Just another whimsical poem, written in rhyme to make fun of rhyme – really forcing words to rhyme, which is why the genre has nearly died out. Never thought it would be published, but it got scooped up right away. Go figure.
