My brief excursion into Eratosphere ended abruptly on being told by one Mary Ann Corbett that she was not prepared to accommodate on Eratosphere what she termed as “a beginner poet,"
 Ah Well! Such is the circus of academia. Only the big clowns are allowed, to perform in their arena.
Was that by any chance a poetic appellation?
 

Nevertheless, and notwithstanding, my immediate reply by way of a hastily constructed extempore, was denied a posting, by the moderator concerned; I suppose, I should not wonder why?

Here is what I said.

There’s some who say ye should nae write
and leave it tae yer betters.
Fer they that hae that God damn right
nae doot, wid seek tae place
yer effing work in fetters.

They’ll tell ye that yer grammar’s wrong
yer words are nae artistic.
There’s ne’er a page that such belong
In their high dicta
that gies yin’s worth tae being bardic.

Fer they that ride new poetry’s steed
decked out in fine caparison.
Gie nae a caution, jargon’s heed
tae saddle burs.
Or poet’s promised sponsion.

They prattle on in stream-let prose
nae aid tae memory’s juncture.
Their words aye lost in thoughtless throes
or chutzpa’s contention.
Wi’ endless pages yet tae conquer.

So here’s tae they that are sae fine
and wear their basinet laurels.
Let's hope its green dye ne'er repine
tae stain a metamorphose,
among chasmal riffed cabals.

Fer wa’ wid take an honoured word
an’ set such pride fair in their forum.
Tae lick yon spoon that ithers stirred
in such a pottage.
 Then claim thae rites o’ ashram...

Fer now I write wi’ poetic froth
my diluent words are simply awful.
Since, I was told to just “f*** off”
wi nae intermittency.
Or consideration o’ the split infinitive,
by puissant valence o’ the anal...

Fer we are sure she suffers too
wi’ problems o’ the proctitis.
Let’s hope that it may so ensue
a long continuation,
and be as Aeschylus of her notice.

“Is fheàrr teine beag a gharas na teine mòr a loisgeas.”

I did not come up the Clyde on a banana boat, like some folk..

Fit ye say tae that hen?.

Mor.