The Drought of March - a poetry poem

The Drought of March
by
Greg Pincus

There isn't a doubt:
It's a poetry drought.

My wordplay is weak.
My images - bleak.
My pacing feels weary,
My word choices dreary.
My assonance? Blah.
And consonance? Ha!
My rhyme's a disgrace.
My meter's a bit inconsistent.
My similes whiff.
And zeugmas? As if!
My output's pathetic.
I'm just not poetic.

Oh! April's sweet showers
Please rebirth the powers
That March has neglected
(This one verse excepted).


I think I should dedicate today's poem to Ms. Harris, my 11th grade English teacher who made all her students memorize the first 18 lines of the prologue to The Canterbury Tales.  In Middle English. To be recited. Yes, in Middle English.

Many years later, the first four lines still rattle around in my head... and somehow, someway gave birth to this poem's title and close. I hereby apologize for thinking that this bit of memorization would never pay dividends.

Now, while I might be in a drought, there's been no such dry spell online. Don't believe me? Well, check out this week's Poetry Friday roundup over at Reading to the Core. Believe me now? I thought so.

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