Paeans - and Aches

over the years

Sunday, March 26, 2006

To a bad writer

There’s nothing I can say to you,
Though for kindly words I grope.
There’s little anyone can do,
You’re really past all hope.

Don’t write no more, you really shouldn’t,
It’s not your special talent.
At least I really wish you wouldn’t
Insist that I should comment.

I’m well brought up—well, yeah, repressed—
I’d prefer to not be harsh,
But your writing makes me, um, depressed;
I break out in a rash.

Your poems are wooden, your stories suck,
Your essays are simply boring.
And your learned critical remarks
Give rise to instant snoring.

When others with just one are glad,
You shove in three adjectives...
Which wouldn’t really be that bad
If your spelling wasn't defective.

(Let me guess, you poor sad creature:
Too many students in your class?
Is that why your English teacher
Didn’t whup your arse?)

Your original contributions
Are the commas between the cliches.
Your characters and plots are thin,
As solid as papier-mâché.

The emotions you present as new
We outgrew in our teens.
We paid our debts. You’re overdue.
You write beyond your means.

Please don’t take this as personal comment. Half of it’s to me. Which half, you ask? Heh.


Blogger Arthur Quiller Couch said...

This one should be on Caferati. We know why.

28/3/06 13:57  
Anonymous Ph said...

We finally arrive at this blog. Only to find you have something written just for us. Eeps.

28/3/06 23:35  
Blogger zigzackly said...

How on earth did you land up in this neck of the woods?

Aw. 'Twas not for the likes of you, and you know it.

29/3/06 00:15  
Blogger Heretic said...

I've got a copy of this on my desk. Helps to keep my writing ambition in check. ;-)

More of my kind need to read this one, Griff. They do!

*thanks for "the earthing" :-)

5/10/06 13:34  
Blogger zigzackly said...

Such kindness!
Er, and how did you find your way here?

7/10/06 01:27  

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