Writing Poetry

I've tried to write poetry for a very long time;
bookshelves are filled with the fruit of my mind.
I've studied and prayed, took a course online
and everything seemed to be working out fine
until
one of my snobbish friends said to me:
"Is this another jingle I see?
So sad your poems turn out to be
the bouncing ball that says: Follow me!"
and then
it occurred to me that she was right.
I seem to find joy and great delight
in joining two words that sound alike
like, hike and bike, delight and strike.
I'm in a rut,
but
why am I writing these words anyway?
Lord knows it's not for the fame or the pay.
I just have something I want to say
and I never know from day to day
if
anyone reads these "jingly" words,
if the delicate rhymes are ever heard
anymore than the song of a passing bird,
perhaps my efforts are just absurd,
but
and there's the point I'm trying to make,
I have so very little at stake;
who cares if I seem a poetic fake?
Trust me, I do not lay awake
at night
hoping that someone will read my words;
that's the silliest thing I've ever heard.
What is treasure to one, is to another absurd;
I admit, quite freely: I'm a poetic nerd.
There,
I have said it and I am glad.
Nothing you say can make me mad.
This is the most fun I've recently had;
critiques and comments don't make me sad
because
I've tried to write poetry for a very long time,
all the bookshelves hold the fruit of my mind
and from this moment on, I plan to be kind
for I am a poet one rarely finds
except
on those rhyming grocery store labels;
that package of hot dogs on the kitchen table.
Truth be told, I'm glad I am able
to share this self-revealing fable,
so
the next time you decide to sit
and read the poetry you deem fit,
just know that somewhere I carefully knit
the words and the rhymes; no I won't quit
because
someday, perhaps in a decade or two, 
this hesitant thought will come to you;
rhyming verses are poetry, too.
And with that, I think I'm finally through;
except
in a poem I started yesterday,
and here I'm a little embarrassed to say:
I cannot find a rhyming way
to use that lovely word:  sparginasay.

What do you think?
You want to play?