Why I Don't Write Poetry

People ask me all the time, "Frank, why don't you ever write poetry?"

I always answer, "Because I have trouble rhyming words, you pain-in-the-ass turd. Now leave me alone before I break all your bones."

That, of course, is not the real reason I don't write poetry. As you can see, any idiot can create rhymes. The real reason I don't write poetry is because I suck at it. I simply don't have the ability to write poetry.

There is a general assumption that a writer can write anything. Not true. My forte is humor, but I sometimes struggle when I attempt to write anything serious. I can fake an opinion piece from time-to-time; I've done some music and movie reviews; if necessary, I can come through with a research article. But what I can't do is poetry and I greatly admire those who do it well.

That's not to say that it's easy to write humor-it isn't. Constructing sentences and paragraphs to bring across a point in a coherent manner is one thing; making it funny is quite another. Humor is subjective. What makes me double over in laughter might not evoke even a smile from you. So coming up with material that will tickle most funny bones is no simple task. It involves a constant search for the right adjective, the quirkiest metaphor, and the perfect setup for the funniest punch line.

Many of the writers at Associated Content specialize in poetry. I read their work and marvel at how well they paint a picture with carefully chosen words that fit perfectly into meter. "How do they do that?" I wonder. Whenever I take a stab at this wonderful bit of artistry, the finished product either ends up sounding like nonsense from a first-grader or the words of someone suffering a severe case of dementia. I have to admit that sounding like a clueless child or an individual with a wee bit of dementia can aid greatly in writing humor, but are terrible impediments for producing most anything else. And so as a demented child, I stick with what I do best, always aiming for the punch line.

And then there is the lexicon of poetry. Poets speak their own language-a language I don't understand. They talk about things like "iambic pentameter" and "quatrains." They write "odes" and "sonnets." And lately I've been hearing a lot about "haiku," which I believe is Japanese for "I have no freakin' idea what the hell haiku is." The language of humor is simple: Just make 'em laugh.

In case you don't believe that I suck at poetry, check out this little piece I wrote a few years ago titled Liftin' the Lumber.

The octagon spider is not an ascot bee
I look one-eyed and wonder
The bunny is hopping, I turn the key
It is why, but in the forest...Thunder!

I listen for a fragmented song...
Bango, bongo, biddle-dee boo
My aim is organically wrong
And to thee I sing "yoo-hoo"

Damn the vultures!
The man is in the yellow tin house
Creep the magnolias
I find the accordion mouse

Begin the end Master
For unto my finger I feel ill
Sly? You ask in Portuguese
Ah yes, the official language of Brazil

See what I mean? What a steaming pile of crap! This poem is supposed to be about erectile dysfunction, but you'd never guess it, would you? It is just a pretentious collection of fancy words and rhymes.

Great poets are like Rembrandt, creating masterpieces that inspire people to stop, think and admire. When it comes to poetry, I am like a chimpanzee farting paint out of his ass onto an empty canvass. Entertaining? Perhaps. Colorful? Certainly. But ultimately, it is the work of a paint-farting chimp.

And that works perfectly for a humor writer.