Gone fishin’ for a fan in a vast poetic river,
Biting seems abundant while I haven’t caught a sliver.
Hook well baited, sinker tight; I cast my line precisely.
Something fishy’s gone awry, my bait’s not taken nicely.
Each new trip is well thought out, my gear is of the best.
My pole is strong, my patience long; the line is fifty test!
I load my hook with clever treats and aim for flooded waters.
I fail to use the favored bait, my reel is rarely bothered.
The lucky worm that takes the prize; incentive of inflation.
A selfish pride of talent’s worth that brings about starvation.
Creation’s not inspired by a monetary gain,
Neither for the promise of a never-ending fame.
If you’re a fan who finds it hard to nibble on a freebie,
My feelings won’t be hurt if your decision’s not to see me.


You might find this one a little hard to comprehend because it was written in retaliation to a message from another poet on a different website complaining that I didn't promote my poems properly and they only ever paid 2 cents per review... My feelings were rather hurt because I thought she read poetry for the enjoyment of experiencing another's soul and not for the "memeber dollars." She didn't want my 2 cents... But I made her eat it anyway!

rhyming quatrains, satire, humor

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james matthew coleman
about 6 years

HAHA! This is great! Wonderfully witty!
Sounds like it's her loss.... My two cents: Forget the b****! :)

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