Assorted Afflatuses

I have no qualms about free verse poetry. Without question, many remarkable poets have composed their works without a rhyme scheme or meter to speak of. Students, however, seem to possess a certain propensity for dislike when it comes to the composition of poems with a rhyme or meter. On Monday, a few brave souls in my English class shared the poems they had composed for our "I'm Tired" poetry assignment, inspired by the somewhat macabre history of Pete in Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

But much to my dismay, not one of the shared poems had any semblance of a rhyme scheme or meter. I would not have minded if only half or even three-quarters of the poems lacked structure, but it disappointed me to see that so few people had chosen to give themselves some sort of boundaries when composing their poems. I have no idea whether my confrères at school simply prefer unstructured poetry or if they dislike the extra effort often associated with structured poetry. Frankly, though, I suspect the latter.

I end with my poem, yet another tirade against the lamentable online social-networking portal, MySpace.

O Rupert, Why?

There is a place, right on the net,
Where children post 'til dawn,
It's ugly and obtrusive, yet,
They fawn and fawn and fawn,

"How can this be?" I say and say,
Along with every click,
Cannot it all just fade away?
It looks and reads like sick,

The letter "I" ought be in caps,
Bemused does not mean glad,
Who are all of these writing quacks?
They make me very sad,

A photo of a green baboon,
With fuchsia does not go,
Nor does that sad new emo tune,
Make for a nice hello,

I tire of these spaces, my,
So ghastly and so vile,
One day I hope to say goodbye,
And strand them on an isle.