I penned a rhyme I thought sublime. Rejection slips came in no time. <br /> My efforts were described as dank. One critic even said it stank. <br /> <br /> I penned once more, said t'was mine own. I lied ( 'cuz it was just on loan). <br /> But still they yelled, they called it crud, and threw me down into the mud, <br /> besmirched my kin, maligned my brain. <br /> My urge to write begin to wane, so expertise I had to feign. <br /> <br /> I asked the Bard to help me out (He is the best, there is not doubt.) <br /> Soon critic fools with ardor clapped, my new skill held their focus rapt. <br /> Their ardent praise doth gave me hope.They knew me not from bygone dope. <br /> And now my words they supplicate, they know not I equivocate. <br /> With each new rhyme they swoon the more, and say, "Have we not met before?" <br /> Who censured then, now grants each wish, whether wine or fowl or fish, <br /> they ask me in to see their place, are wont to kiss my hands, my face. <br /> <br /> I think, "How would the Bard reply?" Then rack my brain and search the sky, <br /> for now I've grown to be so sly, on others I must not rely. <br /> My mind's a'spin, my thoughts doth race. They pucker up, reach to embrace, <br /> I slip their grasp, avert my face, and say with perfect civil grace, <br /> "Tis true, "I'm ere the one you knew. For you the other end will do."<br /><br />Dennis Hutchings<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-to-plagiarism/
