Droning words, unfortunately read br This tender, fog-draped morning, br Has done nothing for my appreciation br Of the world of the 'Genie'... br br 'Genies' live constricted to their world, br Giving three wishes to one fool, br Or many fools, depending on the reach br Of their snare...and dare the reader walk br br Blind into their dark world. Don't even rub their home br The wrong way...would you summon the br Not quintessential poet, poetess, who diatribes br On things which could be righted... br But has 'worded' it all the wrong way? br br Leave your 'critiques' to judicial committees br Who, just possibly, could leave minutes br Of their meetings to a future of br One less war, one less grist for the br Mill of the poetic quill. br br 'Genies' give three wishes which are br Nothing more than slimy fishes br Which squirm through the hands of br The witless fool who only wanted br Material things...rings off the fingers of br Kings who are still alive... br br And now the kings have grown silent. br Silent as the dark of those 'Genies'. br What obtuse reasons, what possibly br Coherent thoughts could have ranged br Through the home of those poets br br To foster plans to escape from the br Bottle and litter the world of beautiful br Poetry with cloudy diatribe. The 'Genies' have br Well forgotten that the poetic pen is by God br Mightier than a BFS poetry critique. br br elysabeth faslund br br Note: And, now there's five among us.