"Who is that poet?"
asked a meticulously dressed, old man with dark glasses and a long, white
beard, as he entered the reading room at the library. He raised his cane and
pointed it at the young poet standing at the podium, reading his work.
A young woman wearing a long,
white dress, waited until he sat down before she spoke.
"Sir, I don't know who he
is," she whispered to him. "But, I really do not like his poetry, at
all."
The old man listened to the
poet reading his work for several minutes and then said, "I don't either.
I wonder who invited him to do a poetry reading at our monthly Society of Poets
meeting. I certainly did not."
"He did not introduce
himself," replied another man.
"He just walked in, took
the podium and said something about having freedom of speech and the
liberty of freedom of expression," the young woman added.
Moments later, several elderly
poets and their guests, got up and walked out of the reading room. It was obvious
that they were offended and upset, as were many others.
An elderly female interrupted
the poet's reading, when he paused to look around the room.
"Young man, this is not
the kind of poetry we read at our Society of Poets meetings."
"If you don't like my
work, you can leave any time," he responded to her arrogantly and
continued to read on.
"That is not the way we
treat people here, either," said an angry, middle-aged man, who took
immediate offense. "That is my mother you just insulted!"
"I have written what I
have written," replied the poet. "You folks don't like it,
tough!" He continued to read aloud, his
voice rising a notch or two, but his audience quickly dwindled, as most of the
poets and their guests headed for the lunchroom.
"What a rude poet!"
exclaimed an angry man, waving his hat. "His work is extremely offensive.
He's mocking God, too."
"I don't know who he
thinks he is denouncing every poet in the room, as well as every social
institution that we call good."
"He thinks he is the king
of poets here today, but he is obviously having delusions of grandeur,"
someone suggested. "He is out of touch with reality and he will fall off
his throne. It is only a matter of time."
"Abusing people and
demeaning peers is not the way to achieve fame or greatness," said another
young woman, who was quickly becoming famous for her poetry. "His language
and imagery are utterly disgusting and deplorable."
"He certainly won't win
friends and influence people."
Several minutes later, they
heard raucous laughter. The man who had just left the reading room, closed the
door.
"No one has to listen to
this kind of garbage."
"Someone may think his
poetry is funny! I don't."
"There are only two people
left in there now," a fashionably dressed, young man commented, as he
peered at him through the window. "I have an idea."
He promptly went over to the
librarian's desk, explained the situation to her and asked about the
possibility of another reading room. The librarian immediately understood and
handed him the key to her office.
"Take your coffee with you
and lock the door when you go in. He will not disturb you any further."
Everyone in the coffee room
headed for the newly designated, reading room.
"Maybe now we can move on.
Who is ready to do a poetry reading tonight?" asked the old man.
Shortly thereafter, the only
two people who had remained in the room with the rude poet, walked out shaking
their heads and left the library.
"At least they appreciated
my efforts," the rude, young poet commented to the librarian, as he got
ready to leave. He tossed his poetry collection into a grey disposal bin,
as he headed out the door. "What a waste of time that was!"
The next flyer printed by the
library for the Society of Poet stated, "Poetry readings by invitation
only."
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