Please scorn not the poet

For the rhymes too slanted,

For syllables miscounted,

For content hard to read.

 

Did our history keep

Shakespeare’s first love sonnet?

Virgil’s practice poems?

Frost’s childhood scrawlings?

 

I fear not the critic,

Welcome all correction,

Love destructive feedback,

And embrace the lashings.

 

But speak not with crude words.

Do not hate my person.

I know I’m a novice.

This is just for practice.

 

Now with authority

I tell you to listen:

These aren’t all fluffy stuff.

My work’s content is good.

 

If language is flimsy,

And words stray for concise,

Mother Nature still cries,

And humanity still hurts.