I think my work has great merit.
I’m sorry sir your writing is lacking in depth.
I capture the raw essence of my subject,
We are confused by your artistic intention.
I will be published in the next two years
His work has only one audience, himself.
I handle my rejection slips
Usually with distain,
Publishers have no vision
Little understanding of the nuances
Contained within my work.
They will never deter me
I am focused, my vision clear
I will produce any day now
The ultimate artistic statement.
We meet weekly, we reject his work
He has no vision, no focus
His words are often misused,
We feel there is little literary merit.
He is persistent we grant him that,
Shame he has never listen, heeded our advice
Not sure if he is maybe intellectually impaired
His language is infantile to say the least.
This piece will set their hearts on fire
Does this man have another job?
My use of metaphor is beyond measure
He is clearly confused by poetic convention.
I am on my way now, an anthology beckons,
Over my dead body will I publish this drivel.