It must be nice to be a young poet:
Everyone cooing you are a genius
When all they want is to get into your pants.
It must be nice to be a young poet:
Your words are praised as heavenly and haunted
While the critics and public are more in love
With your beautiful face and body and voice.
But after your youth has abandoned you
All you are left with is poetry. The critics
Shift their praise to condemnation. You are avoided
by everyone that once bought your books in
large numbers. You have become
flabby and have too many wrinkles in your face.
Your hair is no longer long and blonde.
You are old and forgotten.
It must be nice to be a young poet:
Make the most of it while you can.
We are all dying in the land of the young.
Copyright 2018 by Dylan Mitchell
