Nothing is more pleasing or quite so nice
As notice that a poem of mine qualifies to be
Included in a forthcoming volume of poetry
To be printed in a book at a whopping price.

Flattering it is when my own words appear
To be better composed than those who tried
To get their poems into print for many a year
But the notice says my rhyming is superior.

Iambic Pentameter surely ran amuck in one
I entered in a new contest for amateur poets
But somehow the judges selected my work
Reflecting tongue-in-cheek pure poetic fun.

How do I deal with this unexpected fetter?
Do I swallow these compliments telling me
That I write winning poetic and readable
Words swaying lyricists who know better?

For just how much do I want to see my name
On a page of forever paper beautifully bound
Shouting quality to friend and foe and proving
New-found literary success supports my fame.

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