Clive, Degas' poetry actually isn't all that terrible. In a book of his ballet pastels I ran across some lovely sonnets of his, one of which compared quick steps en pointe to the uniform stitch of a sewing machine...a poem which, now that I've mentioned it, I guarantee I won't be able to find, so I've probably made your point by reducing it to an idea without form. Anyhoo...
Roger and Jan and Maryann et al., I can't tell you how many times I've set out to write a poem to carry a particular argument, only to end up with a poem that argues the exact opposite. My usual solution is to make it abundantly clear (I hope!) that I am not the narrator.
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