I marched in to the publisher
And handed him my work:
"I'd like to see this printed, please."
He said, "You are a jerk."
"What DO you mean? you vile beast!
That you my jewels spurn?!
I'll have you know that I'm alone
In measuring their worth!"
"I'm not surprised," said he, as lines
He scrawled, while I berserk,
Watched helplessly him reddening
My pages with a smirk:
"A few things do look promising,"
He said. Then looked quite stern:
"I might consent....if you'll assent,
For I think I discern
Some talent, if you will relent
To edit. You might learn
To be a poet yet, and get
Some money for your work."
"But, but---" I sputtered, as he uttered
"Adieu. Meeting adjourned."
Showed me the door and all before
I could think or demur.
And thus I'm queasy, for's not easy
Being published, I have heard.
E'en so online I post and find
That HERE I've flatterers!
08Mar11