Fresh Ink 2022
Nevada T. Kiely* A Discontented Writer A discontented writer, am I, And an ever-more distinguished guy; I try my best to all I apply, Yet I’m so very discontented. With all which I write, no one does read Even with my hard push to force-feed; Not one does peruse, but all recede, Thus, I’m so very discontented. I’ve experimented -- all types, genres, Light verse poetry to dark operas. Comic limericks or solemn arias, Yet I’m so very discontented. No matter what the subject contains I always fall short of my life’s aims. Yet try still I, with overlooked disdains. Therefore, I be very discontented. Scholarly parties I dare not attend. For hearing all the people with books penned, And with plays on the theatre –- West End, Hard not to be very discontented. I state I’m in between published text, Talking about my many works next. With not one title known, they leave perplexed. Leaving me very discontented. I just know if one would give me a chance, And not disregard on very first glance, My tales of comic fair and romance, I wouldn’t be so discontented.
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