A perpetual problem in the life of every writer since the birth of the art)
*****
A poet writes of everything
At Muse’s behest
Not stopping to recuse herself
For mere self-interest
Conflict, resolution
That poet’s readers need to know —
Not something appreciated
Much by those who find they go
In the brill’iant limelight
Of posterity
When they start to walking
The road of life with me
The poet joys their prowess in
Celebrates their bold
Accomplishments this world within:
Folks feel they have been told
Nothing but the truth
Of which they so deserving be
Unadorned by any
Lender generosity
But when such see recorded
Right along with hers
More awkward and off-center times
To which some of her work refers
Then it is completely
The other way around —
Injustice has then doubtless been
By her ignorance found
(She cannot be expected
To appreciate
Finer points of life among
The civilized and great)
She wonders if they notice
She seldom puts a name upon
Those disturbing moments
She is commenting on
Most of the dedications
This poet ever makes
Have only in them what to make
Happiness it takes
She’ll continue writing
She’ll continue sing
About both good and bad in life —
About everything
*****
The poet/editor of this website is physically disabled, and lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Contributions may be made at:https://www.gofundme.com/are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts
