For the poet who told me off
Thank you for telling me I
am not a poet
I think I know it
Your snarky remarks
sure hit their marks
So, thank you
thank you for reminding me
For Poetry, literature, art
You must be MFA smart
Mere mortals need not apply
No, here my PhD won’t fly
Get me gone, Get me gone,
me and my improper rhyming
My unorthodox timing
My random stanzas
No flounce or organza
Thank you for telling me I
am not a poet I think I know it
But at least I am kind
not so much blind to your admonition
I should abandon my position
I’ll continue my fun
My thirty-day run
And at the end
I’ll put up my pen
and mend from your cruel remarks
10 thoughts on "For the poet who told me off"
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Boo to that so-called poet!
It is a good spirit that can fly and balance all the way through. Do sixty.
🙂 some spend more than 30 days in the pen…
That said , wunderful wirk 😉
Please don’t take long in your mending.
Poetry comes from the heart, not the pen. I love your writing and wish I had the chance to read more!
I think this moment calls for the wisdom of Dr. Emmett Brown: “Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need … roads.”
Perfect 🥰
I think we’ve all heard that song – usually someone who knows nothing more than the puny tufts of hair on the knuckles of their hand.
I enjoyed the poem and its lightheartedness.
Good grief Charlie Brown. I long to know who did this.
There’s one guy who is a perfessor that’s been mansplaining my own and another friend’s own poems to us in case of we don’t unnerstand what we writed.
Consider the source.
A great ode to yourself-keep it up!
Agree with all – and I think your pen is the best therapy from the world and such remarks! A degree doesn’t make a poet; the heart does.