A light-hearted look at a couple of writerly types which others may recognise too - not meant to offend anyone, and certainly not referring to anyone in my circle, since of course, I only mix with a better class of blogger!
The writer who feels he is on a slightly higher plane:
I don’t have time to read your work
and commenting’s a chore,
my blog’s inspired, a masterpiece!
while yours is just a bore.
My muse ensures I have to write
my gift is unsurpassed,
this enigmatic presence means
I just don’t give a toss
The writer who feels the love:
I’m pouring out my heart and sharing everything I got here and I think it’s all going to be OK if we just have a great big virtual hug and feel ourselves united in this amazing universe which is filled with so much light and hope and turn our faces away from the darkness and just …erm, just …hold on, let me just check that self-help manual, the one I bought in the thrift-store last week when I dropped off some stuff, what was that word? …oh yeah, if we just CONNECT.
And someone said to me, ‘what if there’s a power failure and we can’t connect?’ and I just said that connecting takes place on another level and people like you and me will always be soul brothers and sisters and part of some great big universe of sharing and love and togetherness, so no worries, in space and time we are always connected – even if we can’t log in.
The writer I hope never to emulate:
I’m trying not to crow, you know,
but since my work’s been recognised
(by third-rate online publications -
read by no one with a brain,
so far from getting an ISBN
as graffiti on a rusting train,
or monkey scribbles in the rain,
or crayon-fighting toddlers’ games)
but though I’d never crow, you know,
you have to admit that
I’m better than you.
To the poet who tries too hard:
Your skies are always cerulean
and never simply blue.