Rah! Rrah! Siss-Boom-Bah! Poem by Frank Avon

WOW! I'm now a veteran poet,
and I didn't even know it!

Somebody had to tell me;
somebody had to yell at me.

Does that mean I can slide
on the high slide now?

Does that mean I can swing
on the high swing now?

Does that mean I can ride
the bumper car ride?

Does that mean I can sing, sing, sing,
until I hear bells ring, ring, ringing?

Can I wear a beret,
no matter what the other kids say?

If I like to read and write a bit,
do I no longer have to hide it?

After all I'm only seventy-seven
(plus a year or two) .
How d'ya like that sibilance?
I planned it just for you.

I don't talk about my adolescent acne.
I finally found it's jest too hackneyed?

I wrote my first poem in second grade.
This, I discovered, would not be my trade.

I did the assignment over three times,
which is quite a lot for just two lines.

Here's what I came up with -
as a seven-year-old wordsmith:

I HAD A VERY HARD TIME
TRYING TO MAKE THIS RHYME.

So, I'm a GATOR!
I'm a TIGER!

I'm a BULLDOG!
I'm a BISON!

I guess I'm better'n you know it,
for I'm a VETERAN POET.

(Yeah, I had a hard time
trying to make that rhyme.)

((My score is still sixty-one to fifty-one.
I guess I just ain't a nifty one.))

(((I guess that means I please the id'juts,
and aggravate the critics;

no, no, I mean I please the critics
and jeopardize the id'juts.)))

((((If you've got this far, then while
you're reading, watch me smile.))))

:)