Who The Hell Is Reading Me? (Revised next day)

Who The Hell Is Reading Me?

       (a first draft, pre-sleep whimsy)

Who the hell is reading me?

On occasion I see one,

Occasionally, one, two, three –

It’s rough,

And certainly is not enough!

I usually do not complain,

But, fellow poets, you know it’s the damn-dest pain

To work for hours, – sometimes days

Refining, re- re- re-ing phrase

And syntax,

Checking idioms and facts

To get across idea and spirit.

Are you with it,

reader friend?

No trend, no agent/publicist to wave a wand,

No publisher to send you huge advances

Because he’s of the sole conviction of your chances.

[Do you], get my drift?

Shifting in your seats,

Because you recognize the whiney bleats

That you would like to scream out too?

Well, screw

the reading force,

That leading farce that forces us

To sit it out in silent grumble,

Mortifyingly discomfited and humble.

But know what mate?

I love it!

Never sated, secretly, I love it!

As my confidante, I tell you this.

I wouldn’t miss this silliness

For all the tea in China!

I don’t have to be a winner

Eating Nobel Prizes for my dinner,

Nah, I’m happy just to do

What you do – writing for the one or two,

(there used to be three – one has split)

Get the isolated compliment

From someone honored

– or not.

(Everyone’s got

their own way of seeing things).

Not trying in the least, to be convincing,

Cheerio, to you who may be just my opposite;

And good, good, good, good, good, good night!


Who The Hell Is Reading Me12.19.2016

A Sense of The Ridiculous; Defiant Doggerel;

Arlene Corwin




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