Publishers paying for poetry,
Money for jam.
And if we strike it rich we could buy a Christmas ham.
Poetry is for losers, as least, I would agree.
Focused on image, found in self conceit.
Poetry of life, gathering the dust,
Awaken from your slumber,
Let your word erupt...
The forces of nature are written in their songs...
The race is not to the swift...
The battles not yet done.