Gosh, thanks to Reb I now know I can (and should) give up wracking my brain attempting to write poetry.
My score onThe Which Famous Poet Are You Test:
"You are, without a doubt, the worst fucking poet who ever lived. You have all the charm of a bowl of peas. You do not know how to have a good time. You have no sense of rhythm. You do not have a way with words. Your rhymes are hackneyed, and your ideas are boring. You could use a stiff drink and a good fuck, but the thought of it makes you a little uncomfortable. You should stick to your day job, because la vie poetique is not for you. You do not have a masterpiece in you. I'm sorry."