top of page

After Many a Sonnet Dies the Goose4

Some of these word-warbling wonders

are born with Webster or Oxford

embedded in their genes


They blow politically correct spittle bubbles

that burst with perfect pentametered plops

and in their diapers they deposit

fragrant replications of Wordsworth, Gray or Keats


Infant prodigies, their innocent hiccups

are careless gems flung into the air of

hamburger and limp French fry preschool lunches


At colleges sonnets that they toss off while

solving crossword puzzles are published

in anthologies, compared by lecturers

in literature to bards of bygone days


How I detest these effortless syllable-crunchers

literati, pushcart nominees, poet laureates

of geese-honking provincial hamlets


When all I have to decorate tradition’s walls

is a bunch of graffiti and expletives

with which to eulogize

this motherfucking world

To Go Back To
Hit your browser's

© Johnmichael Simon



bottom of page