Portrait of a Poet

Is there any virtue in verse?
They’re merely words set out to flatter
Does it put money in your purse?
Can’t you think of something better?

Having to write is a curse
Bad poets should see a doctor
Always getting from bad to worse
And the tears they cry are bitter

There are poems written by a monkey
No sense, no rhythm, no rhyme
They pass themselves off as being wacky
It’s a shame and a shocking crime

I suggest you write your last stanza
Turn it in and try to unwind
Watching Tele, stuff like Bonanza
Unless you’re Mastermind

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