In The Echo Chamber
Now as we know, all speech should show,
The artist's refined facility, to exercise the mind
And ear, and dress the drama, fittingly.
This piece, however, is adorned by rags;
It has a threadbare script and the story drags.
The whole 'ensemble', quite simply sags,
With the limp unraveling of the running gags.
The coarse material, is too rudely spun;
The cloth of wit is poorly cut;
Not spiked by needle barb or pun.
An ugly garb, and crudely done.
It is the type of play we critics loathe,
We froth and curse and emit strong oaths,
We pull our hair and go mad in droves,
Lambasting fashion and all writers – both,
Who would wear their audience like a tired suit,
Or worse, strip us naked - diminished. Brute!
Dave SmithWhite's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (In The Echo Chamber by Dave SmithWhite )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(19 April 1928 - 26 December 2006)
(2 June 1840 – 11 January 1928)
(3 June 1926 – 5 April 1997)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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