Their poems are always about the woods and nature <br />Each one has an eagle or some kind of a bird mentioned <br />There are no elves or dwarfs as in real life <br />Only snow adorned trees and conifer needle covered natural paths <br />Along the way down to a running brook filled with plastic fish <br />Where the circus elephants from London take a drink <br />Their poems are always pretentious and contrived <br />Like their hyphenated names and their bloated signatures <br />Which they scribble like scoliotic prostitutes on lines lifted <br />From other people’s work <br />Yet they critique the most educated of their peers <br />With a jury pool mentality developed while drinking beers <br />Where the loudest most boisterous voices in the pub <br />Take first prize for being the best bards of literary symmetrical craps <br />About the woods and natural things like shit…. <br /> <br />2007 © T Sheridan<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-critic-s-society-of-poetic-genius/
