The Advice From The Poetess

She said to me old bloke why waste your time
In penning reams and reams of doggerel rhyme
One might think you've said all you have to say
You've not grown wiser though your hair is gray.

You are not a poet and you're one without a god
And though you often mention the downtrod
How can a godless one for poor souls care
When you won't even say for them a prayer.

She was a poetess one skilled at the wordsmith trade
And she said you know that poets are born and they cannot be made
And though she did seem that bit harsh on me
With her I did not choose to disagree.

She truly believes that anybody can pen rhyme
And that times have changed and I've not changed with the time
And though she is entitled to her point of view
One to one's own self only can be true.

It took me back to my days in Primary School
Where I often sat on the dunce's stool
I convinced myself that I'd never make the grade
Old memories live on though I wish they'd fade.

The advice from the Poetess awoke the self doubt in me
Am I the person that my own self see
Could that be why success never came my way
We are what we believe we are some people say.

She said to me you never will know fame
Your rhymes are doggerel by another name
But then again she told me nothing new
As poetasters many and poets seem so few.