A Puzzled MinBy FlatDaddy
The man I was before today
is unknown to me now,
that man of action! — usually
in something written dow’.
He never met a word unknown
if even when it breached
it swore it was another
squalling somewhere down the beach.
I met a bloke just yesterday —
a very handsome man,
polite, well-spoken, self assured
he even had a tan.
We spoke for hours, most the night
and nearly all the day,
before I realized my glass
was standing in my way.
Oh, my brothers, sisters, too,
who dream of writing fame
Be sure that your next manuscript
bears no one else’s name.
I know you know I know that “No.”
is just another word
That you and I and him and her
have well too often heard.
Oh, it seems that all I write
Came whispered in my ear
While I lay sleeping in my bed,
Just loud enough to hear.
But then when I so proudly post
“Four score and seven nights …
Someone yells, “Hey, if you steal,
“at least please get it right.”
Alas, sweet lass, and gentle man
I fear all words are known
and all the stories ever writ
and all the plot lines blown.
I’m sure I’ve memorized them all
and written most, of course
My memory just can’t quite tell
A jackass from a horse.
