Here’s a post worth recycling.
Give this word a whirl:
Poet … taster?
Uhmmm, no, not that either. No eating of poets, no matter how yummy their words.
It’s actually pronounced poh-it-as-ter,
negating the whole “taster” angle.
Poetaster actually refers to
a bad poet, a disaster, a poet-aster.
Wikipedia tells us that “The faults of a poetaster frequently include errors or lapses in meter, badly rhyming words which jar rather than flow, oversentimentality, too much use of the pathetic fallacy, and unintentionally pathetic choice of subject matter.”
So, if I were to take a stab at poetastric verse, it might sound something like this …
There once was a milk cow named Sassy
who lived in a pasture that was really … grassy.
She was black-and-white spotted,
Her hair was a little knotted,
But her hormone/antibiotic/GMO-free milk … was classy.
Like fingernails on a chalkboard, right?
Except that it made me laugh!
There once was a poetaster
Who wrote poetry faster
than she could master
the verses she wrote.
wow the first ” continue reading” that I have had on your journal in about a month , so naturally I had to respond and let you know I am alive MaryJane !
this poem sounds like what I wrote as a child thinking I was the next Emily Dickinson- uh yeah right. I did better with non rhyming poems though.
Love anything about cows !
Wonderful to have you back, Lisa. If the continue reading doesn’t work on Wednesday for you, shoot me an email. It may mean something given today’s older entry worked on your computer. We’ve missed your stories!!!!!
thanks! Ive missed you all! well I haven’t a clue coz I was able to leave a post on one of the new gladsome Sisters posts but not the others- check out my teepee story I left this morning
I give this a double moo. Loved it.
This poem reminds me of something that little kids start out writing and I find it super cute! I love a poem about a super classy Sassy!
There once was a poetaster. His writings were quite a disater. He tried really hard, but he was no bard and instead he became a wine taster.
I just couldn’t help myself!
There once was a donkey named Skipper
No other was quite as hipper
She loved candy canes, cookies and hugs
And when she saw you wanted a good rub
I think your poem is a lot better than mine! lol I must be a poetaster!
Pretty hard to do knots in hair so short! I guess you’d have to knot her lovely tail, or fail at the sport.