Wednesday, March 27, 2013


    For more than forty years I’ve written verse,
    Some gathered up in photocopied sheaves
    That I’d among some willing friends disburse;
    The rest a row of three-ringed books receives.

    Decades ago, I printed one small book
    Of light verse, called Ped-antics, to amuse
    My friends and colleagues, but never undertook
    What every dedicated poet pursues:

    A volume that a noted publisher
    Agrees to pay for and promote among
    That niche of readers who sometimes prefer
    To read aloud what’s best when said or sung.

         That’s now my goal, to harvest and to sell
         My winnowed store at last—so wish me well.