Not Enough Time
I've not enough time to read 'Poetry'
That is nothing but disjointed prose.
If the Poet can't bother to spare the time
To make the lines scan, nor use words that rhyme,
I find my impatience blossoms and grows;
And I yearn for a good rhyming verse.
I've not enough time to hear 'Music'
That is nothing but formless noise.
If the composer can't bother to write a tune
At the beginning, or at least pretty soon,
I find that I lose my sangfroid and poise;
And my comments get pointed and terse.
I've not enough time to view 'Pictures'
That represent nothing at all.
If the Artist doesn't wish to be hide-bound by life
And prefers to paint patterns, in which freedom is rife,
O.K.-- but to explain them at length is just gall;
And I can't think which version is worse.
I've not enough time to read 'Novels'
That are f*** of f*** letter words.
If the authors' command of good English text
Only serves to leave me angry and vexed,
I'm inclined to call them indescribable t**ds;
As I let rip an Old Saxon curse.
I've not enough time to read 'Critics'
Who write as though they're the one judge.
The arbiters then, by whom standards are set
And everything's rubbish if they are not met;
And here I wink heavily, and give a nudge, nudge,
As I'm wheeled back indoors by my nurse.