Ode to a Dirty Sock Thrown Over a Grecian Urn

Why do poets always write about beautiful, frightful, or fascinating things? Just once, we'd like to see a poem about a dirty sock. So we wrote it:

Ode to a Dirty Sock Thrown Over a Grecian Urn

I know why the tube sock stinks

With odors foul

Of feet unwashed

Untouched by towel.

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote

The droghte of March hath perced upon meh foote,

And quired meh to don the hose,

To picken a peyr, I troostyd meh nose.

Two socks converged in a folded ball

I wore the one the color of dry wall—

And it made all the difference.

Let us go then, the sock and I,

When with gym class we must comply

Like a zombie going through the motions

Let us sweat, through jump rope,

The sport without hope.

Shall I compare it to a piece of cheddar?

It wast more smelly and more grey.

I chance the sock might taste better.

I hardly cared the toe had 'gun to fray.

I heard a fly buzz—when I took it off—

The Stink in the Sock

Was like the Stink in the Air—

The Smell of toe jam.

Shall I put you back in the dresser drawer,

And wear you again as I did before?

Quoth the tube sock, "Nevermore."

Little sock, who wore thee?

Does thou know who wore thee?

Do not go gentle into that good wash,

Rage, rage against the cleaning of the cloth.

Can you figure out which poets we raped and pillaged satirized?

Related post: Megan's Life Lessons: How to Write Incredible Poetry...Incredibly