Submission Transmission

A not very serious poem about the ups and downs and ins and outs of writing.

Dear Mr. Agent, won’t you buy my story?
It’s a little bit funny and a little bit gory.
If you’ll accept it, I’m quite sure you won’t be sorry,
and I’ll be a happy guy.

I also have some poetry I’d like to share,
and I’m kind of optimistic there’s a market out there.
It’s perfect reading for your audience, I swear.
And mom taught me not to lie.

I know it’s wrong, but I confess to multiple submissions,
and I’ll gladly take all offers made, with no conditions.
I’m trying not to harbor any suppositions,
but my hopes are soaring high.

My flagging ego might not stand another rejection.
With each “NO,” I sink deeper into dark dejection.
I’m begging you, don’t always think you need perfection.
Mediocrity might satisfy.

Publishing new writers must be like a game of poker.
Sometimes you get the ace of hearts and sometimes it’s a joker.
And I’ll admit it, my portfolio’s quite mediocre,
so never mind. Good bye.