An Expression Of The Heart
‘Tried publishing my poetry,
I had been told I should.
Yeah, all my friends had bragged on me,
They thought I was quite good.
But I got the envelope back,
In way too short a time.
Seems they couldn't deal with the fact
Lines five and seven weren't true rhyme.
The meter was off in line eight,
I stubbed my iambic toe.
Now my poem I once thought great,
Had me hanging my head low.
So I fixed the meter, fixed the feet.
Taking all of an hour.
That made my poem, once so sweet,
Seem just a tad bit sour.
I gave them a perfect rhyme scheme,
No, nothing less would do.
I thought the poem lost it's theme.
Just shows you what I knew...
Cause now the publisher bought it,
Yeah, I made a few bucks.
But I wonder, was it worth it,
My friends all think it sucks.
To meet their meter and measure,
Emotion lost release.
The publishers got their pleasure,
But left me with no peace.
Yes, indeed, I have to question
Such detailed critique of my art.
When poetry in my conception,
Is an expression of the heart.
Is all that we see or seem
but a dream within a dream?