Shakespearean (Rule-following)
Dear Professor,
I must apologize-- I will be late
to class today. Against my best wishes,
I find my home beset by bees. I wait
inside, in fear of their yellow militias.
Let it be known there are dozens -- of swarms,
not single bees -- but should the opportun-
ity come, I'll leap between the sills like storm
and fury to arrive in class at noon.
And so, I do beseech you not to mark
me tardy; another will have me fail.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
This is no humor-filled missive or lark
I've sent, but an explanatory mail.
Regards, your student, still beset by bees
within a cage of his own making, Reese.
Email 'Sonnet' #2:
In which the poem is terrible and I respect no rules.
Dear Poetry Professor,
Poetry makes so little sense,
for an accumulation of words steeped in meaning.
Every pause so chosen, every sentence so dense,
and yet it sounds of gibberish convening.
Let the first line rhyme with the third,
but the second must do so a paragraph down.
"My hands down my throat—" Well, my feet to a bird.
It's two in the morning; just what did they say?
It's of an experience lived, of emotions important...
I get it. I do! But when I just look around—
There's beauty in simplicity. In explanations discordant.
Hell— sometimes, I just want the sounds.
So please, let's stop with the complex poetry homework.
Let's write a haiku.
Sincerely,
Turkey Block
Sent from my iPhone