If you want to become famous,
If you ever have so wished,
Just write a book of poems
And make sure it gets published.
The critics will all muster,
Gather at the discount store.
They’ll all line up to rate you
As your books go out the door.
They’ll talk about your background;
They’ll talk about your name.
They’ll analyze your income,
Did you pay to get your fame?
If your poems are in free verse
They’ll say you’re slow to rhyme,
But they’ll say that your old fashion
If you rhyme on every line
There’s just no way to please them
Once you publicize your work.
They all have their agendas
As they criticize your book.
But something they won’t comment on
Is what you have really said
In the book that you have published
That they never even read.