Small Time

small time, you call it small time
writing
is small time, there is no money
in writing, like a
politician, look at him, he does not
write, someone writes for him
and he gets the prize
the money
the pot
the jackpot
and look at you
you keep on writing
and writing
and writing

oh la la
poems, fit for a woman
her limited mind
her gullibility
her passion for words and words and words
her imagination

and look at you
poor man, poor, poor, poor
what you give
to this world, what are you giving to this world

it is not even a flower
just a poem for her, and you claim that you are winning her heart?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!