Back in high school, I disliked poetry. Well, “dislike” isn’t really strong enough, but “hate” implies more effort than your typical high school student is willing to invest in a course.
Let’s just say I had a strong aversion to reading drivel like e.e. cummings (whose typewriter was missing the cap key). I got neck aches from nodding my head in iambic tetrameter to Kilmer’s “Trees” (A mime to chime a rhyme in time).
And seriously, what guy in his right mind would use a Shakespearean love sonnet as a pick up line? “Love’s not time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle’s compass come!”