The Poetry Judge! Poem by Denis Martindale

Anthologies were his domain,
His publisher to serve,
Yet other poets he would strain
Throughout their learning curve...
So he threw out above and love
And true and blue and you,
Because he'd simply had enough
And yearned for something new...

Apostrophes would drive him mad
When missing now and then,
He sighed aloud as if quite sad
And threw out these again...
But treasure waited in the pile
Received each day by post,
Perhaps a gem to make him smile
With perfect style for most...

One morning came and full of sighs
He chanced to read some verse
That started well, the prose seemed wise,
Proceeding to get worse!
He tore that poem into shreds
Then put it in the bin,
The sort of sonnet that one dreads
And patience then draws thin...

But then, it happened, joy at last!
A nugget of pure gold!
All others there it had outclassed!
Behold! Behold! Behold!
He read it once, he read it twice,
He checked each word, each line,
The punctuation very nice,
The sentiments divine...

Ten out of ten! It made his day!
He got some copies done!
At home, he put them on display,
Read there by everyone!
His son was pleased, his daughter, too!
His wife was thrilled as well!
That poem joined the chosen few
He didn't put through Hell...