No doggerelists need apply

(Inspired by the currently ongoing scouring of the shires of New Hampshire for a poet laureate)

The poets of the Granite State
From top gun down to not-so-great
Are clucking like a brood of hens,
They seek a Poet Laureate.

Let's hope those folks will take up pens
Who write verse no one comprehends,
(For clarity is worse than rhyme)
And nominate themselves - or friends.

For those who grasp the paradigm,
And are in versifying prime,
Who know enigma wins the day,
This is indeed a heady time.

You'll sense those poets by their ways,
They've not quite shaken all clichés,
With sandals, flowery dress or beard,
Or strutting round in French berets.

Soon one will be e'en more revered,
Raised aloft, with fame veneered
With ancient Greek-style laurels crowned,
In shopping malls and classrooms cheered.

Will our next Laureate be found
Like Dalai Lama, unrenowned,
In humble, rural trailer park,
And academia confound?

Or will it be a hierarch,
Who has already left a mark
Within the corridors of fame,
With rhymeless verse, obscure and stark?


New Hampshire poets seek a name,
It matters not if Knight or Dame,
A hayseed or a city dwellah,
To fill the vacant throne's the aim.

Please help them find their Cinderella
That poetess or poet fellah
Think – who could be the Laureate?
Now mail that choice to Pat Frisella*.

*Pat Frisella is the President of New Hampshire Poetry Society.