[A little something I came up with during Brit Lit, we were discussing Keats... I hate Keats...)


Nursing his Redbull
And gripping his tissue
Poetry to Urns and Birds
Expecting these subjects to speak
For the lack of the speaker’s speech

Say so much to say nothing at all
--Sophistical
Rely on your subjects (so affectionately) to save you, Keats
Sniff sniff
His nose glows red

Class drones on
Keats awaiting a response
Let me solicit a thought. . . [Are you mental?]

The can feels light
His eyes grow moist
How moving, Dear Keats
To elicit such emotion
As we absorb your words
(He sniffles here)
What a lovely little rapture
(He sniffles there)
To have his heart a’ capture

Sneeze once – twice - thrice!
Here nor there
The lad is sick and blows his nose
Befuddled Keats, the Irishman woes.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...