Bernard Melchior doesn’t know anything about existentialism (or flexistentialism), but he knows what he likes. He wrote this poem for me (and you, by extension), and suggested I start a section for up-and-coming poets, which this post is the first member of.

Biography: Bernard is from the Great Britain, and he has invented all sorts of useful things, like towers to sit on while judging people, and airs of Suspicion. In addition to poetry, he writes things like children’s books, boring speeches, and letters of complaint.

I present to you:

Dilemma
Dedicated to William Blake
by Bernard R Melchior

O Iris Bold, O Iris Bold.
How could you serve me so?
She shot me in the hand, you know.
You don’t like that, I’m told.
Bernard has a daughter
It’s just a rumour.
You don’t need to humour
Me.
I won’t believe it til we’ve caught ‘er.


What do you think? Will he make it big and sell millions? Would anyone like to purchase a glistening white tower from him that you can sit on while judging people? You be the judge. Bernard’s judge.