An Ode to John Keats

John Keats, how you repulse me. You and your flowery diction and obscure vocabulary - it disgusts me. I suffered through your excretions of wit for many an English class period. Yes, Romantics, I despise your god. To properly portray my feelings toward this dilettante, I composed the following verse.

Just sit there and think about what you've done

An Ode to John Keats

 by Michelle Rash

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense as of your poetry I read

To loathe your overwhelming poesy hath my heart decreed

My spirit, too weak; thy diction, too deep

I am not even permitted the gentle luxury to weep

Thou speaks of Arcady and Attica and Greece

Of love and war and paradox, in which I find no peace

I was once full of sweet dreams and quiet breathing

Then poetry abounded, the importance of which I found deceiving

I linger in the soul-searching despair of the tomb

Hoping Hemingway and Twain will emerge from the gloom

Authors of straightforward narrative, of prose!

Not as if you could ever recognize those

At least by your profound questioning, your mind appears to be alight

Your queries are most significant, such as “Why Did I Laugh Tonight?”

You write of a golden-tongued Siren with lute

If I spoke like that, I’d prefer to be mute

Dryads and faeries amuse you to no end

After pages of this, even Meyers is a godsend!

Yes, a thing of beauty is a joy forever

Yet your poems are counted in this category, approximately never

As my mental end draws near, I have but one request

Give me Dickens or give me death!