Poem- “The Close Bookman”

“The Close Bookman”

Oh, yes.

There’s always a grumpy poet.

You probably know this guy.

Maybe he’s a frequent performer; maybe he’s your basic teacher.

He reads a lot of literature.

He reads very useful information on the internet.

From casual reading, he gets very, very stormy.

After reading, he walks away to a lonely field of nature in denial.

Emotions get the better of him and he easily loses confidence.

Soon he writes crabby, excruciating verse in the privacy of his heart.

Maybe he will lecture to a small, selective audience for his gloomy conditions.

He becomes one of those raw, plain teachers who stretch lessons like poor gum.

You can see the fire in his eyes; if you look away, his vision will burn.

He just does not enjoy his own language of poetry.

And, he will just be so tuneless until he loses faith in his own words.

The poet goes on, without wisdom, to criticize his own grammar and language.

Sure, he does speak English, perhaps.

But, if you give him the chance, he will cause misfortune of low vocabulary.

He stands alone on the hill with his precious, sheepish audience.

He huffs, and he puffs, and he blows his vocabulary down.

The poet fails to enjoy his own language for the skill of acting and performance.

Usually, this poet is likely to be a man, a very strong, uppity man.

Thoughts are racing in his mind like moths under a broken lamp.

Reading his poetry with laughter and happiness would just be insanity.

Over the years, I have seen thousands of commonplace poets of this sort.

He, or she, never observes any confidence in his own grammar and words.

To the cheeky poet, a library is fatal jeopardy for enjoyment of literature.

The poet is a self-defeating critic of his own field of artistic creativity.

Usually, he only pretends to have interest in religion and wants an easy way out.

He can’t handle his own language and wishes to have nothing for his language.

The poet’s feelings are too crazy for somebody’s attention.

Praising his work would be a misleading obsession with mystery and fantasy.

Serious poets should not even consider this kind of writer.

Yes, he is a poet, but he hates his job.

He only learns the English language in neglect.

And, he teaches his audience to experience just as much scorn and misery.

He does not respect our social media and nice people.

So, here’s my solution for him:

If he does not enjoy his job and do it well, he should quit and leave us alone.

Poetry will be a great world of literature without his cold heart.

https://www.deviantart.com/gameuniverso/art/The-Close-Bookman-954118345