oh woe is me..what am i to do

i had a career..now i’m through

my hopes and dreams

and all my schemes

of poetry lie shattered in the waste

flung back in distaste

what am i to rely on

retirement income gone

no more writing thoughts and prose

i’m rejected to my toes

are there no alms houses where old poets say

where do the rejected go at the end of the day

as i walk away with no lasting skill

rejection letter in hand...reading it still

i reflect on a career short but sweet

as the letters pile up at my feet

March/00

* lighthearted prose about receiving rejection letters from publishers