It's interesting being argued with to your face regarding getting your work on the market and published. They are too kindly in my local poetry group at the library.
(sonnet #MMMMMCMXLIX)
La, to my face, ere from a distance' pale
Voice bits and bytes denote, some worry hence
I'll be like mousy Dickinson, as whence
They urge me publish these fraught lines' detail,
Lest after Death seals that font in betrayl,
What **! but shall these perish sans defense?!
Come, let us now observe a winking sense
Of hallowed silence, shall we? Have I bail?
Where Shakespeare trusted he'd be loved ah, fer
Was that until this earth be done? He knew
Him cherished face to face. Besides, in poor
'Scuse we but parse his lines or lisp the crew
Of them sans knowing Will. I'm not loved. You're
Appreci'tive, and my loves: I love y'all too.
05Oct16
While not too many years ago I likewise dreamed of being on bookstore shelves and snatched up, in hardcover no less, oh, and I envisioned particularly how my sonnetry would be ordered on the pages to boot, somewhere since passing the 1000 mark and finding that daily sonneteering in the face of working and living left little time for collating a manuscript, I chucked the idea indefinitely. Funny how they too generously pressed me to try to get my name public the last meeting I attended at our Gail Borden Publick Library Poetry Writers Workshop. They are too sweet and kind to little me. You know?
