Bill Roberts

A Thing So Boring

I think that I shall never see
a thing so boring as a tree.

A tree to me, standing there, is all you see,
arms raised to heaven, praying for rain or dog pee.

Admittedly, a tree can be
quite beautiful when leaf-ed ful-ly.

But, like this poem of curs-ed rhyme,
a tree just stands there all the time.

Does nothing, does a tree - gives shade,
of course, with summer's lemonade.

But shade doth fade as chill invades the glade,
forsaken leaves on ground below splayed.

So tell me not of its beauty, cutie.
I prefer a tree that works, is rather fruity.

Ah, here under the banana tree or apple,
with thoughts of gravity I grapple.

Ouch, what hit me on the head like lead?
'Twas Joyce Kilmer, whom I thought dead.

Thus I promise the black bird, as you snore:
Write again in rhyme? Nevermore.


Bill Roberts gives seminars on how to write a poem a day in 15 minutes, then take it to market. He's written ten thousand, had a thousand published online and in small-press magazines. Retired from nuclear weaponry, he does what he can to see that someday all WMD are negotiated into extinction. One of his poems was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2009, another for Best of the Net. Bill can be reached at marcorosie@comcast.net.

Current Issue:
April 2010

Taylor Copeland
Taylor Graham
Carol Lynn Grellas
Karen Kelsay
Bill Roberts
Russell Rowland
Lucille Shulklapper
Kelsey Upward
Patricia Wellingham-Jones

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