Poems For Posterity (Poetry)

Oh! it’s tough to be a poet
like it’s hard to be a saint
sharp of wit and keen to show it
born word-savvy — smart as paint

As he plays with observations
praying they’ll be understood
makes a host of declarations
as his muse insists he should

Carves those lines upon the stonework
meant to satisfy the crowd
stays up late and does his homework
lazy cribbing not allowed

With the last book he’s had published
wilting humbly on the shelf
poor reviews that panned or rubbished
dented soul and heart and health

So he aches — tries to be better
worries lines dreamed second-rate
prods and teases every letter
mercy-kills the rhymes that grate

Here’s a page and there’s another
does it sparkle bright with fire
or deny it — run for cover
pending judgement truly dire?

Life’s a minefield for the poet
Death’s much safer — ask the saint
canonized before you know it
quirky ramblings now deemed quaint