Stella told me I croon love tunes like Sting.
Edna confided I sound like Dylan.
Wanda contradicted, ruled I can’t sing
at all. Her firm judgment is still killin’
my minstrel’s soul. Diane lauds my sonnets’
spirit. Phyllis leers, whispers how my verse
seethes with passion. Patty laughs, Doggonit!
Your poems sure are corny! Then what’s worse,
Laurie reads them but never says a word.
Doris trumpets loudly my news columns;
Cynthia shakes her head, snaps, They’re absurd!
These divided critiques leave me solemn
since I don’t derive a majority.
I dub each snub the best authority.
Roger Armbrust
February 4, 2012
