Years of writing, brilliant wit, passion but no book
Is it my fault, if this pen, shaking, is my hook ?
Concealed in my lugubrious vault, for hungry lengthy days
I have Alchemysterized the beauties of the hays,
I have turned into gold my strenuous thoughts
And yet, nobody has ever entered my boat.
Except for that Halloween day when I read this oracle :
Poets wanted ! Send Poems ! Prizes, Cash !!! Agents ! Cars !
We shalt publish Ye in an embroidered way !
I got into fire and exited from my tabernacle...
I stared, I dreamed. I felt neutron waves from the stars
My holly hands shone like a glamorous highway.
I foresaw my fame, I envisioned a new pair of cashmere socks
And I trembled while slipping half my heart into the mail box.
There passed again many a lengthy hungry day.
And suddenly, in a clear sky morning sun, came the answer :
<< style="font-weight: bold;">YOU ARE A WINNER !
Our New Volume : POETS of the WORDL Will comprise your Wokr !
Don't be surprised, such thrilling moments occur !
Alas ! Due to Paper Shortage
And Handling, and Postage,
We shall ask Ye
For a tiny small fee...
Which is NOTHING compared to the Proud Excitation
Of reading Your Own Poem Printed ! Congratulations !
In our brand new Unique Hard-Cover Premium Limited Edition !
Its only fifty bucks. Have a nice day. >>
