A poem, How could anyone treat me this way?
So this warning is for you.
I am so hurt, I'm hurt to the core
Bigezine didn't steal my work
It's like they slammed the door
In my face and left me so blue
I searched their site
And didn't find a clue
I thought perhaps they would like a Haiku, a Rictameter, or a Senryu
I 'reckon they don't like poetry
I'm still hoping they find something of mine to snatch
'Cos several Hubbers
Are just dying to catch
The thieves who have no talent of their own
If and when they find them
Listen for a pitiful groan
So this is a warning to you low-life crumbs
Stealing writer's work
Makes you all dirty bums
So don't come lookn' for anymore hubs to steal
You'll get caught
And believe me it will be a BIG deal
Prison walls are lonely at night
That's where you'll be
After a bloody fight.
More by this Author
My muse is constantly bugging me to take her south to lay in the sun on sandy beaches in Florida. Maybe I will. The election blues have got to go!
I was watching the sunset on a drab, gloomy day, missing my hummingbird's who had already flown South, and watching my squirrel, Squiggley store pecans for the winter when my muse took flight.
Nellie was a country girl who loved to write poetry. She went to the city in hopes of becoming a writer. She was told by publishers that poets and writers were a dime a dozen. shattered dreams.