Just yesterday my hopes were dashed again:
A publisher, though kind, still said ‘No.’ It
Seems I must deem, another year, in vain
All schemes and dreams to call myself ‘poet.’
(Poor rhyming.) Don’t despair. No, don’t blow it,
Just slow it; Start AND finish a novel,
A funny one. (But don’t tell, just show it.)
Attend a course, get out of this hovel.
(Predictable rhyme. Needs a course!) Shovel
Your crumbled ego back into your brain.
Heat gently. It’ll rise up like dough. It
Can’t be kept down! A hell-breaching devil,
Escape artist, rebel, castle in Spain,
Or single cannabis seed. (Let’s grow it!)
Fri 27 Apr 2007
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