Lord, could it be I'm not as great as they've been telling me?
I was told at an early age that I'm better than the rest. I have trophies that prove it true, but now in every contest I'm beaten by more than a few.
For years I splashed in a tub pretending to rule the wine-dark sea, but when I go to Dad's club no one confuses Neptune with me.
Now here I am back in my old room (having finished my education) with an hourly job and minimal pay and these trophies say participation.
Lord, club-footed Byron couldn't dance but you gave him eloquence and artistry, and now he's the avatar of romance. So, Lord, what gifts do you have for me? Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
Pungent Sound Journal of Pulp Poetry 
Very cool!!
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Good things come to those who keep pluggin’ along. You’re in a buffer zone, while the Great Whomever runs a few calculations for the many possible scenarios out there for you. 🐛🦋
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Haha. Okay, I’ll go with that.
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👍 Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…
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Thank you.
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Dear Child of Destiny (Self-Proclaimed),
Dear Child of Destiny (Self-Proclaimed),
The gods must chuckle at your plight—
A legend in your own mind’s night.
Your trophies gleam with hollow pride,
Yet fate won’t grant you a fare-free ride.
All that praise was just but lies
“Good job!” and all those empty cries
Now you learn – too late by years-
The real world is a vale of tears.
Fear not, for life is long, they say—
Perhaps you’ll shine another way!
But if the world still fails to see,
Just get an MFA degree.
(at Pungent Sound of course.)
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Well done, Josie. That’s brilliant.
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You have a gift for poetry but liberal arts do not pay very well.
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Haha. Yes, that’s why I went to law school. But thank you for the compliment, that’s kind of you.
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Had another joyful read whilst I was here.
Gwen.
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Excellent. Thanks, Gwen.
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