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Bad Poem

By John I. Blair

This poem doesnít work.
The thoughtís dorky,
The rhymeís iffy,
The rhythm sucks.

Two years Iíve tried,
Massaged it till it squishes,
Concluded
That it isnít worth my time.

So Iíve decided
To disassemble all,
Erase what I have writ,
Put a stop.

Each word Iíll re-stick
In its lexiconic slot
For reuse another day
When Iíve more than squat to say.

©2007 John I. Blair


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