Foolishness In Poetry

Full of 'Thee's and 'Thy's 
Ushered by 'Thine' and 'Mine'
And 'For so art my heart be true'
The Fool published his poems of true love
To the foolish acclaim that they deserved

So full of emoticons 
And lacking real emotions
That the page filled up
Before the idea fleshed out
Scarring the eyes of those who read them

Leaving them blind as blind can be

So The Fool
He switched to braille
Enthralling himself with carefully placed textured bumps
Until he fell in love with images his fingers revealed
Masturbating ideas right into and through the pages

Feeling more the poet
And less the fool
His readers pressed their fingertips
To what he had left for them
Burning their pads and prints

Leaving them as fingertipless as they could be

Finally understanding the err of his ways
The Fool of a poet pondered his rules
That the way to rhyme this with that
Was with a tall top hat
Full with curled cues in a row
Glittery and stolen from a crow

The simplest of half stolen rhyme
Filling up all of his leaking time
With the wonder and the question
Of whether he was truly a fool of a poet
Or only wrote poems fit for fools