Judging One's Own Work

The days are sleeping And the air takes a nap beside me It is not so much the heat that taxes but, the energy that keeps being written from my hand Poems can be songs or stories from the weary pen Confusion still creeping near It is hard to define their meaning,I fear For every word in my vocabulary to be put into a sentence More and every so often over-indulgence gets the better half of my word scheme Am I the only one to fairly critique- family and friends do complimentary speak? This ability of mine to connect using rhyme can be straight forward or juvenile Others may be more gifted in wordplay Accept their work with a handshake and THANK YOU Some,however,such as myself can harshly judge if his poems are beneath merit In the final analysis,though It is the reader or audience who have the right to like or dismiss any,and as often.. the POEM AND THE POET