Thinking of the Judges of Writing Competitions


We are the lords of poetry
We’re smug and snide, unkind
Submit your works and you will see
How winners are assigned

We spit on writers quite unknown
It makes us feel so strong
And with polemics overblown
We chastise what is wrong

If your verse has rhyme and meter
And tries to sing a song
We’ll recommend strong saltpeter
Melodies don’t belong

We are academics sworn
To uphold an arid faith
A Byron would be quite forlorn
A ridiculed mere wraith

In our world so new and sterile
We’re doctors of all ills
We expunge things manly, virile
And castrate writing skills

So do pay us a reading fee
And we’ll review your verse
With unctuous grace and amity
We ready you for your hearse

Copyright David Gottfried 2005



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