# Is my poem abysmal?

**URL:** <https://boards.straightdope.com/t/is-my-poem-abysmal/129664>\
**Category:** In My Humble Opinion\
**Created:** [September 25, 2002, 8:14pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/is-my-poem-abysmal/129664 "2002-09-25T20:14:52Z")\
**Posts on this page:** 3\
**Page:** 2

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**Author:** ![coffeecat](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/coffeecat/32/3405_2.png) [@coffeecat](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/coffeecat)\
**Post date:** [September 27, 2002, 2:13pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/is-my-poem-abysmal/129664/21 "2002-09-27T14:13:01Z")

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I like it. Both my ear and my rhyming dictionary say “to” rhymes with “true.” It scans nicely: as **pulykamell** said, meter doesn’t have to be perfectly regular, and usually shouldn’t. I too would ditch the hyphen in “po-em.”

It’s cute and funny, and adding imagery would spoil that. Write another poem about how Jen’s eyes are like stars and her lips like melted chocolate bars.

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**Author:** ![Shade](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/2bfe46/32.png) [@Shade](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Shade)\
**Post date:** [September 27, 2002, 2:29pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/is-my-poem-abysmal/129664/22 "2002-09-27T14:29:09Z")

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> [@](#):
>
> **Jen’s eyes are like stars and her lips like melted chocolate bars.**

lol.

> [@](#):
>
> **I like it.**

Thanks, **coffeecat**.

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**Author:** ![The\_Great\_Unwashed](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/the_great_unwashed/32/4791_2.png) [@The\_Great\_Unwashed](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/The_Great_Unwashed)\
**Post date:** [February 25, 2003, 1:19pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/is-my-poem-abysmal/129664/23 "2003-02-25T13:19:14Z")

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> [@](#):
>
> \*Originally posted by Shade \*  
> \*\ ***The Great Unwashed** , Do we get to hear this poem? I’ll try and get mum’s opinion… \*\*

There’s probably some rule about digging up ancient threads like this, but I never knew I’d left anything hanging.

# The “poem” in question is not to hand, but this one is, and demonstrates adequately my inability to rhyme (floor/raw, etc.). BAD CAT

I know two things about my cat,  
I know this and I know that,  
I know it eats at number three,  
But always makes it back for tea.

I know at night that it creeps out,  
To hunt for mice, there is no doubt,  
I’ll often find bits on the floor,  
Steak and kidney, in the raw,  
Organs peeled with a sure precision,  
The expert cuts of a physician,  
There before me on the stair,  
The missing bits I know not where.

And when the night is dark and still,  
My cat will wander down the hill,  
To stare, intense, at the phenomena,  
Our local, amateur, astronomer,  
Sat behind her telescope,  
Peering, squinting, full of hope,  
A thermos flask sits by her side,  
A tidy notebook, kept with pride.

And then one day, she spies afar,  
A new, surprising, unfamiliar star,  
She feels a tingle in her toes,  
The novel nova grows and grows,  
Until she realises that,  
It’s just a whisker of my cat,  
Interrupted from her dream,  
She serves my bad cat clotted cream.

I should point out that I am dead hard and not at soppy about anything, especially cats.

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