Monday, October 29, 2018

October 29, 2018

with apologies to Joyce Kilmer
I know I'll never taste a pea
As mushy as your poetry.

Your pea poems drag on sagging lines,
Much sappier than Valentines.

Are they picked from the pod and chewed?
Or mashed up into baby food?

To read your pea-poems turns me green:
I'd rather read a lima bean.

And next to peas, your pea-poems are
Black-eyed and squishier by far.

Snap peas need fertilizer spray,
But only you make poems that way.

by J. Patrick Lewis
in volume 5 issue 1

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