a dire ode
Pray, who can know the damning shame
That slighted writers know,
The axe that falls so cruelly on
Our fevered tales of woe?
No insult worse may hound one like
A Baskervillian dog
Than knowing your own long-time partner
WILL NOT READ YOUR BLOG.
“Fie, fie; ‘tis folly!,” quoth he,
“’Tis a sophomoric waste!”
Thus, by such dire, imperious terms
One’s brainchild is debased.
What altruistic hero, then,
Will rescue from this bog
The curséd soul whose lifelong partner
WILL NOT READ HIS BLOG?
What bitter, acrid, fetid gall
The cheapened writer drinks
When one he long loved so demeans
The soul of all he thinks!
The scars upon the author’s heart
Read out the fatal log
Of him whose partner, high and holy,
WILL NOT READ HIS BLOG.
Perhaps one night the fickle stars
In their alignment staid
May shine afresh upon the tome
Now cast into the shade;
And by their glow, illumine
One gray headstone through the fog:
“HERE LIES THE PUTZ WHO WOULD NOT READ
HIS PARTNER’S GODDAMNED BLOG!”
[© David M 2008]