Fame Destroys Great Poetry
© Surazeus
2018 12 06
Three poets walk down busy city street
on sunlit afternoon before rush hour,
then sit together at the round glass table
on the sidewalk by the bookstore cafe
to drink coffee and talk about poetics.
Samuel opens book and scribbles short poem
about white clouds in the timeless blue sky,
then sneers when he hears Mike talk about fame
as sure proof that famous poets are great.
"The poems written by the most famous poets
are dumb scribbles of mediocre losers.
The greatest poems are written by nobodies
who write poetry in obscurity."
Mike laughs and slaps his shoulder with left hand.
"When the great poet writes the greatest poem
everybody will want to read its words
because the simple beauty of its concepts
will replicate in minds of every person,
so great poetry that everyone loves
will earn the poet everlasting fame.
The poet who writes mediocre verse
will never gain fame in eyes of the world,
but great poems will always earn poets fame"
Samuel sits back and opens both hands wide.
"Fame destroys the ability to write
great poetry, so thank you, everybody,
for ignoring me so I can continue
to write the greatest poetry of all time.
Time and again we see that once the poet
gains fame for great or mediocre poems
they lose the ability to write well,
so nothing they write will be great again.
I never want to gain fame for my poems
because at that moment my skill will die."
John gasps and spills coffee on the glass table.
"You just desire some phony platitude
to declare your poetry is the greatest
because you have never yet achieved fame.
Just because you write in obscurity
and have yet to be awarded with fame,
proves not that obscure poets are the best,
nor proves that you write the best poetry.
Perhaps nobody reads your poetry
because the poems you write are too complex
and confuse the simple minds of readers."
Samuel ponders, then pats his chest and frowns.
"You flatter me by proving I am great."
Leaning over notebook he writes more verse
while cars glide flashing by on busy road.
© Surazeus
2018 12 06
Three poets walk down busy city street
on sunlit afternoon before rush hour,
then sit together at the round glass table
on the sidewalk by the bookstore cafe
to drink coffee and talk about poetics.
Samuel opens book and scribbles short poem
about white clouds in the timeless blue sky,
then sneers when he hears Mike talk about fame
as sure proof that famous poets are great.
"The poems written by the most famous poets
are dumb scribbles of mediocre losers.
The greatest poems are written by nobodies
who write poetry in obscurity."
Mike laughs and slaps his shoulder with left hand.
"When the great poet writes the greatest poem
everybody will want to read its words
because the simple beauty of its concepts
will replicate in minds of every person,
so great poetry that everyone loves
will earn the poet everlasting fame.
The poet who writes mediocre verse
will never gain fame in eyes of the world,
but great poems will always earn poets fame"
Samuel sits back and opens both hands wide.
"Fame destroys the ability to write
great poetry, so thank you, everybody,
for ignoring me so I can continue
to write the greatest poetry of all time.
Time and again we see that once the poet
gains fame for great or mediocre poems
they lose the ability to write well,
so nothing they write will be great again.
I never want to gain fame for my poems
because at that moment my skill will die."
John gasps and spills coffee on the glass table.
"You just desire some phony platitude
to declare your poetry is the greatest
because you have never yet achieved fame.
Just because you write in obscurity
and have yet to be awarded with fame,
proves not that obscure poets are the best,
nor proves that you write the best poetry.
Perhaps nobody reads your poetry
because the poems you write are too complex
and confuse the simple minds of readers."
Samuel ponders, then pats his chest and frowns.
"You flatter me by proving I am great."
Leaning over notebook he writes more verse
while cars glide flashing by on busy road.
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