Dreck writes itself, <br />caring not, says 'What the heck' <br />to all this rot - - that is, the thought <br />that words can mean an awful <br />lot or that they arise from a <br />Place that can't be sought. <br /> <br />Now, Drivel differs in that it suffers <br />emotional leaks plus annoying squeaks, <br />stealing furtive peeks at others' works <br />for 'inspiration' (see plagiarization) , <br />failing (silly jerk) to capture <br />the rapture of original quirk. <br /> <br />Alas, not forgotten, unfortunately, <br />there is but one more entity: <br />Doggerel, doggedly determined to <br />be embraced like dogma by you <br />and me - - less of which said the better <br />for much like a wet woolen sweater, <br />Doggerel and Kin stink high up to <br />heaven, sticking itch-i-ly to poetic skin. <br /> <br />As Fate dictates, the writer is <br />the last to know, always, <br />that D., D. & D.has him/her <br />by trembling toe as, <br />dear Friend in Poetry, <br />I well should know (alas) -! <br /> <br /> <br />(5.5.06)<br /><br />Esther Leclerc<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/doggerel-drivel-and-dreck-oh-my/
