Dear me, How do I be?

Dear me,

How do I be?

Am I getting ahead

Or just sleeping in bed?

Am I making a mark

Or not yet in the park?

How to move forward

And not be a laggard?

Perhaps make it my quest

To enter a contest?

To get my work seen

By those who are keen,

And not be invisible

To all the quizzical.

Perhaps then my work

In its beautiful(?) quirk,

Will its audience find

(No longer to’t blind),

Will be appreciated

And a readership sated,

For a short little while,

Till they search ev’ry mile

Of the internet libr’y

To find more of my vibry,

Enticing writ morsels

Or verbose(?) big parcels.

And then I’ll move forward

Not take a step backward,

Convert my word hobby

To something more jobby?

If that’s what I want

From my literary font.

So long as that stand

Doesn’t get out of hand.

I don’t want to find

That I’m losing my mind.

But how likely is that

From where I’m now sat?

Not very I think,

With a nod and a wink

To myself, mine and me

What am I now three?

No of course not - I jest.

My humour is best

To set my mind free,

To go on a spree

Of creative writ treasure

(In my estimable measure),

To climb to great heights

On literary kites.

Am I going too far

Are these thoughts way off par?

Well they’re my thoughts aren’t they?

They’re not on display.

Unless I now enter

This silly old banter

Into a contest

In hope of a conquest.

Well, I’ll give it a go

I can take a slight blow,

Should my entry get nowhere

Disappear into thin air.

Bet regards to you be

From your good old friend, me.