Prophets and Losses
I decided to take a year for my writing,
and went to the bank
to ask for a loan.
If I didn't have the stress of work
I could devote myself to my writing.
I hoped that by the end of the twelve months
I would have something I could publish,
a novel, a collection of short stories.
enough poems for a volume.
I was shown through to the bank manager's office
and told to take a seat.
As he glared at me, I detailed my plan,
for pouring my soul into my writing
to get it all down and out of my system
and then to attempt publishing.
What's your estimated turn-over for year one?
He asked, peering at me over his glasses.
About two hundred and fifty. I replied, proudly.
Is that pounds or Dollars?
Pages. I said.
No, you're misunderstanding. What's your margin? he asked.
It's a narrow column that runs down the side of the page.
It was at that point I was thrown out of the bank.
- Author: Tom C Dylan ( Offline)
- Published: February 12th, 2024 04:49
- Comment from author about the poem: One a TV show the other day, I heard a business person talking about their margins, that gave me the idea for this poem.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Accidental Poet, Qurrathul Ain, ana_the_bibliophile.