Talentless

You’ve bragged about how talented you are
in writing poetry  
and how you ably imitate, rehearse,    
and duplicate so easily  
with great elan,  
   
far better than all the present  would- be poets can,  
   
the styles in which the “golden ones”  
like Byron, Shelley, Yeats,  
and even good old Will himself,  
set out their verse,  
   
and fain, if you were so inclined,  
could take and make,  
the subjects that they doted on  
your own to dwell  
and write upon.  
   
And yet, so far as I can see,  
you’ve never really tried you hand    
at scribing a submission  
close resembling what they penned  
when they, with gusto and with fervency  
indited what they often,  
rightly,    
thought to be  
a poet’s foremost purpose and his aim  
in writing verse  
   
i.e., to put a hex  
on members of the gentle sex  
and woo, entwine and daze them with  
the composition of electric words aligned  
in such a way    
that made them want to rush into  
those poets’ arms and know their ravashings.  
   
I wonder why  
you’ve ner’re produced some poems of this kind,  
or even when that you attempted to,    
you’ve failed quite miserably  
to be successful in the enterprise.    
   
The answer is, I ken,  an easy one.  
   
In this poetic realm you’re talent-less.  
   
You haven’t the ability  
to craft the phrases and the  imagery  
or any of the kinds of verbal rapturing    
within a poem’s lines    
that have the power to induce  
let alone seduce  
a woman into breathlessness,  
elating her to aching sighs  
for want of your embrace.  
   
No doubt you will respond to this  
by saying that your reason for not writing pieces steeped  
in potent and persuasive sensuality  
is not that your composing them is far beyond  
what bardic skills you have.  
Oh no, you’ll claim. That’s patently not true!  
   
It’s just that it is not the sort of thing that men,  
acculturated  as you are,  would do  
or would  find worth their while.  
   
But listen now.  
That whirring sound you hear  
is Rumi and  Qabbani spinning in their graves,  
so spurred by how you cover up  
your vast incompetence,    
to rise with sore intent  
to tell you this:  
   
“Now if you think that heated poetry  
whose subject is the joy  
of carnal love is a something Middle Eastern men  
would not be happy explore  
and never should on public paper pen,  
then you’re a bumbling self-excusing knave  
   
Another thing of which we’re sure  
is  that, when you make claims that you possess  
as other’s don’t  
the grand facility to write things  
that will endure through time,  
you are little more  
than  just a  rank poseur.  
   
In fact, from what we’ve seen    
of  your  oeuvre  
you’re hardly worthy even to be classified    
an “amateur “  
since you don’t show yourself    
in any way proficient in the bardic art  
or versed well enough in it  
to do just what it is  
good versifiers do  
and that’s to write a piece  
that is so truly sensual    
that it will set a woman’s heart  
on fire”  
   
So can you prove them wrong?  
My money’s on the answer “No”.  
In light of how you always write  
in manned style that’s dull,  
all tell, not show and shows awareness none  
of how the sensual in verse is spun,  
The chances that you’re able to,  
are minuscule and dire.,  
The chances that you’re able to,    
are minuscule and dire.