At Play In A Garden Of Words (The Problem With Poetry, Or, Harvesting The Pea Patch) Poem by Rev. Rebecca Guile Hudson

I’m put upon to ponder the problem of poetry
& thus, I proudly or, perhaps, perfunctorily,
Ponderously pronounce with a preponderance,
Even a plethora, of p’s:

Poetry is pithy, prankish and perky,
Pertinent and impertinent, too
It’s prophetic, pathetic, pragmatic and proud

Poetry pretends, preaches, points out,
Points to, and down, and under

Poetry’s petals promise purity and peace
Poetry’s pristine, picky and pale

Poetry is practical, prudent, is pregnant,
Gives pause

Poetry’s precise, prayerful, powerful
Poetry’s presence is portentious and playful

Poetry’s a mosaic portrayal, a
Painted portraiture, perfect, profane
Prosaic, it is not,
Preposterous, it is
It is ponderous, political, porous, pontifical
Peripatetic and perennial,
Prescient, pedantic, possessive and puerile
Perfidious, perceptible, perplexing, perfectible

Poetry perseverates, preserves, perseveres

Sometimes perplexing, never perishable,
It pulses it prowls, it probes and it pries

Poetry is a perverse, precocious, pubescent prankster
Presumptuously posing,
Priapic and prudish


It prances, and preens periwinkle plumage
In place of deep purple prose
A persuasive, peculiarly pleasant peacock,
Poetry promulgates poems!

Poetry, dear poet, exists
Poetry, dear poet, persists
Poetry, dear poet, persists and preoccupies
Poetry can never desist