Poet Don'T Show It
As I sit here and ponder what to write
I suffer every poet’s plight
What to put in it that may bypass a cynic
Will it pass the test of time or be it a rhyme
Is it about a crime or will someone even pay a dime
How will I tell it if I can’t even spell it
It won’t be shock if I get writer’s block
Once more it would lead to things being hocked
How will I blend smarts and wit in it
With critics abound ready to pounce a limerick
When I made this a career choice
I knew then that I wouldn’t be driving a Rolls Royce
My Father would often say
Are you getting a real job that will pay
But Mom would often defend me and herself relay
Let the boy play he will make it some day
So now I sit here with a dry piece of bread
Trying to forestall the dread, what if they’re right I plead
Just then and there it came to mine head
It’s time for bed don’t let this spread
Enough said
Andreas Simic©
Copyright © Andreas Simic | Year Posted 2018
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