This poem will only affect around 20 people, all of which were present when the idea was first developed. They are both the inspiration and the purpose for this piece. At least, they seemed to enjoy it.
Painted expressions of faceless crimes.
She is traditional in today’s photo frame.
Criminality brushed on, to accentuate the person inside,
Locating its centre in how the others view you.
I am sorry though, as a figure head that dreads this.
But, you know that, no that, no not that, that, yeah that, and that.
Well, that’s not allowed.
I’m sorry, but them’s the rules.
Honestly I am.
I means, I realise it’s stating the obvious, seen as everything else is spelt an smelt out in this place,
And I don’t just means this, it’s more then this, it’s this, that, them, and the other thing we won’t discuss.
I digress, but I just want to say,
You, and they, and I, are ours,
Our own and ours alone.
Don’t let them take that.
I was challenged to write a poem for someone who claimed to have never read or heard a poem that he enjoyed. This is the result.
So, you don’t like poems?
They don’t grab your attention?
You don’t appreciate the subtlety of an enjambment
Or the frailty of a perfectly sequenced iambic pentameter?
You don’t autonomously tap along with a crescendo rhythm
Or laugh heartily at a whimsical limerick?
Well, this one is for you:
There was a young man I know,
Who thought he’d give poems a go.
Well I’ll tell you straight,
You won’t get a date,
Until you rhyme like a poetical great.
Are you listening yet, yes?
Have I grasped your attention with this?
Help it in the palm of my hand like a God?
Abused it like a spotty geek abuses COD?
Twisted it round my freckled pinky
With my wonderful word play and whimsy?
Well, here’s the clincher;
Now I know that you said you don’t feel
That this poetry lark is for real,
So here is a ditty,
To make you feel pretty,
Hang on. That’s a bit too far; sorry sweetie.
So that’s it, the poem to grab your attention;
Challenge accepted, extended and delivered.
The wager is a dairy delight:
If you can honestly say that this ode
Did not float your boat,
Then revel in its chocolaty textures.
However, if you were in the least bit moved,
By the way I used the spoken word
Then the chocolate is mine,
To have and to hold, in sickness and in health,
Until my face devours it.