This may not be a poem,
more like a beef,
an irritation,
a shock and awe annoyance,
that too, too, too many poems
by keyed up scribblers,
package their custard mustard innards
with the same skill three year olds
wrap a present for their mothers,
fully expecting the same mom response,
"Honey, this is so lovely."
There is no disgrace
in learning by failing.
Fail, fail, fail,
But do it honestly.
Read five books of poems
before you write
one miserable haiku.