Oh, bogus Christmas Spirit pass me by,
I see lacklustre wrapped in mindless cheer.
If I rebel, I have good reasons why;
I won’t allow your jolly madness near.
It’s true, I love St. Nick and Tiny Tim,
But spare me that cha-chinking of the till.
You packrats, frantic in wild shopping whim,
You humbugs who snuffed out my own goodwill,
If your trite gifts are meant to touch my purse
And yield return, I shall ignore the pinch;
Bah Humbug! you will get, meant as a curse.
But IF you want to buy stuff for the Grinch,
In place of all this season's SPIRIT spoof,
Give me the bottled eighty- percent proof.
Dec 14, 2020
The Grinch's Christmas Rant
About This Poem
Style/Type: Structured: Western
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing Stage: Not actively editing
Comments
While I do...
enjoy your tale, it leaves much to be desired in the rhythm and pattern dept. I feel that you might be able to make it measurably better, if you want. Nice tale though. ~ Geez.
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Hi Geezer,
yes, I'm just a beginning writer; much to learn from you guys. Thanks for the read, much appreciated. Van
Dear Thalassa;
now it's my turn to be utterly confused. I just had my wife, who is an excellent reader, recite this poem, one that is an iambic sonnet of 5 metric feet, to be read as "ta-Tum, ta-TUM, etc.. The stress falls on the second syllable, like this: "Oh, BO-gus CHRIST-mas SPI-rit PASS me BY"
So, boys 'n girls, this is sumfin to think about. Thanks for reading, dear lady.
Yours, Van
Dearest Thali;
thank you for your return. Now I know what the problem is: the length or rather the shortness of the sonnet form. It takes a skilled poet to cram all the details of a plot into 14 lines. So far, I have written 45 Sonnets that make sense, but this particular one is bound to humble me, lol. I think I'm done with sonnets--at leats for a while. Thanks, dear lady. Yours, Van