Poem 016, Sonnet 5: Pitying A Poet Poem by Samer Madbak

You say my friend your words can shatter clay
Your readers melt upon your lines of gold.
I feel no fusion, poet of the day,
No fainting, and no fractures in my mold.

No sweet emotions sweep my fragile soul
When, sadly, I peruse your corny code
No sob, no tear, no rush of joy or gall…
A barren bard, and Oh an odious ode.

Aye friend, your writings fill my heart with rue
Your verses are but doleful doggerels
Your lines lack meaning, rhythm, rhyme and hue…
Come poetaster! See to something else,

To anything other than poetry,
For what you quote is pure absurdity!


Beirut
September 18th 1987