Or, The Poet And The Heckler
�2007 Harvey H. Warwick III
Hark to the tale of the lovers of yore
(Hope you�ll excuse me if you hear me snore:
Poems that start out like that, I find a bore.
Is anything good on TV?)
Out on the evergreen meadows, they dance
(Where�s this supposed to occur? Is it France?
Maybe it happened right here. Ha! Fat chance!
It sounds pretty fishy to me!)
Came Cleophagia, borne by the breeze
(That her real name? Sounds like some new disease.
Almost as funny as, uh, Di�ptres.
I take it these two are both Greek?)
Lit by the soft rosy fingers of dawn
(Is that the best you can do? Aw, c�mon!
Such an old hoary clich� makes me yawn,
The dullest thing I�ve heard all week!)
There by the stream, as the lovers embraced
(I�m glad the rest of this stanza�s erased;
This kind of verse is supposed to be chaste,
And not filled with graphic detail.)
Then to the sound of the Myrmidon�s roar
(At last, some action! So now what�s the score?
Wait, what�s a Myrmidon? Tell me some more
Is that a mermaid with no tail?)
Hotly Di�ptres ran off in pursuit
(All right! You go boy! Go take back your loot!
Catch up with that Myrmidon! Give him the boot!
You are going after him, right?)
Onward past mountains and deserts and seas
(Get to the point of this thing, will you, please?
I can�t see the forest because of the trees!
Is this going to drag on all night?)
Wherefore Medea gave him this advice
(Who�s this Medea now? Is she real nice?
I know, a love triangle! It adds spice!
Got all the ingredients now!)
Found he had drunk of the potion in vain
(Drunk of what potion? Could you please explain?
Following plot lines is always a pain,
I try to, but I don�t see how.)
As he had always been true to his word
(Really, this thing is becoming absurd!
I don�t suppose that it�s ever occurred
To you to get right to the point?)
Nor would he suffer another to speak
(I was just kidding! Don�t act like a freak.
You�ve got to admit, this poem�s sounding bleak,
So don�t get your nose out of joint!)
Jupiter�s wrath only echoed his ire
(Really, I�m sorry! Don�t set me on fire!
I will do anything that you desire,
Don�t let him throw thunderbolts here!)
Two days and nights blew the hurricane east
(Only two days? Make it five at the least!
It�s more a thrill when the danger�s increased,
And heroes confront their worst fear.)
There, washed ashore on a strange unknown isle
(Saw that one coming, at least by a mile;
Next thing you�ll tell me, he goes through some trial.
Is there no end to these clich�s?)
Only in sleep was his loneliness eased
(Sounds like he�s in a tight spot: are you pleased?
Another well-worn clich� here you�ve seized:
Is this where he lives out his days?)
Yet were his dreams stirred by some nameless fear
(Thought he�d be pining for his long-lost dear:
A nice plot twist that you�ve come up with here!
So now what�s in store for our boy?)
Red was the sky in the east the next morn
(Here comes another clich� that�s well-worn;
It would be nice if instead of this corn
You�d find a real plot to employ!)
Smoke from the burning could be seen for miles
(But who would see it, on deserted isles?
Was our boy trying to burn some brush piles
To signal some ship passing by?)
For, as the prophecy long had foretold
(Which one was that, if I may be so bold?
I�ve long lost track of the plot; it�s gone cold,
Explain it? No, don�t even try.)
Long had his love waited for his return
(How did we get here? I cannot discern
Whether our hero was rescued, or learn
If we�re getting near to the end.)
Then did the kingdom rejoice as they wed
(How come this story keeps skipping ahead?
I have lost track of the plot, as I�ve said:
Could you please start over again?)
4/06