His frame was gaunt, his income was erratic:
The crowd ignored the writer high above
Who wrote and brooded in his lonely attic,
Starving for beauty, poetry and love.
These days, although his Muse is rather quiet,
The royalties and praises never cease.
He’s found his niche, but needs to watch his diet –
The doctor says he’s clinically obese.
David Whippman is a British poet, now retired after a career in healthcare. Over the years he’s had quite a few poems, articles and short stories published in various magazines.
Quite nice! These are two perfect little quatrains in precise and careful English. The choriambic substitution at the beginning of line 4 is just the right touch.
Thanks Joseph.
“The royalties never cease”: Well, it’s heartening to hear that at least one poet eventually got his deserved remuneration.
Thanks Monty. Unfortunately, the poet in question is fictional!
I knew that, Dave. I was just having a little jest at how many truly-gifted poets over the centuries DIDN’T end up with the remuneration that their work deserved; and indeed died penniless. And how many more again who’s greatness-of-work was only recognised long after they’d left this life.