I have, I must admit
a cynical disposition.
Poetry, to me, must be
more than a manumission
for the poet's tortured soul.
There may be erudition, exposition,
the fruition of a lifetime of attrition
but there must also be the recognition
that we are not all tacticians, pouring
over each submission,
willing to forgive sins of omission
if the words seem smart enough.

For poetry, you see,
is not sudoku,
even a haiku must contain some clue
to let the reader through
into the hidden meaning.
Why use a host of adjectives
when one or two will do?
Why talk about a bounding mound
of ceaseless energy
when what you really mean
is a bloody big grey kangaroo?

Long live the extended metaphor,
the sly allusion, carefully crafted illusion
but let them not become a foregone conclusion
or we may find ourselves accused
of pretension and lack of attention
to the comprehension of the reader.

'Wordsmiths' beware for there are dragons
lurking here.