McMullen: My poetry is the best, you see

The State of Missouri needs a poet laureate and I was thinking I would be a good fit.

So what you’re dreading is all quite too true: I’ve got another cheesy rhyming column for you.

You might just think it a terrible trope, but to that I can only say: nope. There’s a good precedent for the musical episode: Consider this bent something of an ode.

From “Buffy” to “Xena” to “Grey’s Anatomy”; even “Star Trek” and “Scrubs” and “Community” — most series given enough time will eventually succumb to the rhyme.

I’ve been ill in that way, I’ll freely admit: so let’s look at this application a bit.

I’m Missouri born and Missouri bred, you might say my bourn’s not widespread. They say there are other places to be but I’ll always be loyally Show Me.

I am a published poet in the technical way and I won’t let poor meter get in my way. Here are three examples, just as you want:

• McMullen: Column time done in rhyme

• McMullen: A conversation with Santa

• McMullen: Ode to a Snow Storm

It’s just as good as that stuff from Vermont. The first one is bad, the others slightly less, you can replace it with this one I guess.

All those poems are mine, written by me — I don’t crib like Michael Kinney.

But the requirement that has me vexed is the one that is on the list next. It’s something that might not apply to me: You’ve got to be active in the poetry community. On Twitter I follow Damon Freed, that should be about all I need. And if it’s any consolation to that I know people who will rap at the drop of a hat. I know rhymers, all right? Even if they don’t always write.

Now I used to make light of poets, it’s true but I’ve got an outlook that’s shiny and new: I can promote poetry in MO: I won’t stop until all the people know. It’ll start in low and then it will start to grow — maybe I shouldn’t use rhymes from that one Christmas show.

You can use my likeness, work and bio: I cannot offer you much else, though.

But rhyming poems aren’t hip anymore, so I’ve got something else for you in store:

I’ll whip one up, right now. It’s called “The Tiger Doesn’t Typically Care for Pai gow.”

the convenient dumpster was covered in rust
but a strange visitor visited it that night
a crisp wind whipped but to my surprise
I found something among the discarded donuts

It’s a work in progress, OK? I’m not going to work on it all day.

So call up your representatives, your uncle and your governor and tell them that you want Travis McMullen to serve as Missouri’s new Poet Laureate.
Missouri is facing a serious poetry crisis and we’ll need a serious secretary of poetry to guide us through the tumultuous poetry times that lie ahead. The poetry regime has a stranglehold on the tragic land of poetry and if we don’t respond with poetry force we might we might just go down as poetry’s greatest monsters.

The poet laureate program needs an infusion of young blood and I think I would be perfect for it since every column I have ever written could technically be counted as a poem. My poem count is technically huge.

Or they could choose someone that is, uh, qualified for the position — but where is the fun in that?