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©