Read the original poem: Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
Thirteen Ways of Reading a Poem
My sincere apologies
to le meilleur poète — WS.
Among all the tamed word-animals,
The only poor soul that gets overfed
Is a tiny parakeet called poetry.
I am a three-headed hydra—
Each head turns towards
The good, the bad, and the ugly.
Before reading a poem, hurl the book
Across the room to see how far it can travel—
Enjoy the brief pantomime.
A poet and a poem
A poet and a poem and a reader
I do not know what to choose,
The canticle of da-DUM da-DUM
Or the beauty of concrete cats,
The reader scrolling through a modern verse,
Or the head-scratching later.
Words fill up the pages
With almost a moronic pride.
A poem takes its form, ousts
The poet from his erstwhile station—
Traced across the contours of your face
Betrays any semblance of joy.
O vaudeville poets of vanity,
Why do you compose lines
About an incidental carafe waltzing
With Retsina across the broken ballroom?
Do you not see how your poem
Begs to be understood, like a curious
Dog tugging at its owner’s pyjamas?
I know indecipherable lines
And verbose, intolerable stanzas
That’d put Stein & Stevens to shame—
But then who will know
What I know, that only I seem to know?
When a poem flies off a poet’s desk,
It leaves a long scratch on the faces
Of innumerable crackajacks.
At the sight of poets yodelling
Their abstruse academic verse,
Even theoretical physicists
Weep in utter despair.
He walked barefoot across the Sahara
To understand the meaning
Of a poem that talked about blackbirds—
Above his head
He saw shadows of death, looming
Like a dozen blackbirds.
The cursor is moving—
The poet must be typing.
It was midnight all morning.
Cats and dogs fell from the purple sky
And they kept falling—
Until the poet sat naked
On the balcony, stroking
Poetry by MetaPoetics
Read 112 times
Written on 2022-04-01 at 16:47
Tags Parody  Pastiche  Humour
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