Can’t think, brain dumb.

If you’re ever forced to memorize poetry, the eight-liner by Shel Silverstein beginning with this phrase is the way to go, and I promise you, after hearing it at least thirty times in eighteen weeks, you’ll remember it for years to come.

I’ve never been a huge fan of poetry, to be honest. If I’m forced to read that Robert Frost poem again in English class, I might tear the pages out of the book, rip them up and throw them away. Just kidding, I’m not that violent, and I would never destroy works of literature (except, perhaps, for this reason). But I love song lyrics, so I’m not certain where the disconnect is.

I truly do enjoy Judith Viorst’s poem, especially those in the “Sad Underwear” collection. They were humorous, clever and literal. No extensive symbolic theories required.

Writing poems isn’t too bad, however, just as long as said poems can rhyme. If not, I’m better off just sticking random words in a semi-logical sequence.

…And in the words of Forrest Gump, “That’s all I have to say about that.”

 

 

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