Just the one cow, that's it. (Cynic Magazine) |
Published in The Cynic Magazine on March 1, 2010 --> Posted poem Just a Farmer Back in my brash and callow youth, I wrote a brilliant children’s tale. Just ask the critics, it’s the truth, Awards and kudos in the mail. All copies vanished off the shelf. The kiddies oohed and aahed and begged. I must admit to pride myself, I thought I had the process pegged. I soon began to write again; I’d take my sequel to the bank. But though I sat there with my pen And tried and tried, my mind was blank. I thought at first I’d hit a wall, Just needed time and solitude, But months went by – no words at all; My publisher became quite rude. At last I forced myself to write - A stream-of-consciousness attempt. I flipped the switch, but got no light. My agent gagged in loud contempt. No matter how I tried, I failed, I could not write another book. But still my first was often hailed, A “one-time wonder, come and look!” Each wave of kids that comes along Discovers that same early smash. And though the sales are going strong, I hate the check, but need the cash. I still fill pages one by one. I work and toil and get no sleep. But when the chapters are all done, It’s just a worthless steaming heap. So with one book as my cash cow A lonely farmer here I sit. I try to write but just know how To milk the cow and shovel sh**. |