It’ll come
That’s what they say
Only if you let the day soak itself away
Appreciate all that goes on about the place
At snail’s pace
Enjoy the ride
Let dreams of a heady book deal slide by the wayside
Why not try and drop the pen for a time
Do something else, something that has you feeling otherwise sublime
When you least expect it, that should be the date
They come looking for you
When your words get inside a book
Who knows, maybe even two
It’s all that you want, I know this
No poet ’til you get to pick that book up off a shelf
Show it to all and sundry
Nothing else
So what will it be
Beat the shit outta your dream
Or take a chill pill
Play it fair like the rest of the world and its literary team
Writers out there who want to make it left, right and centre
Of the universe
Tighten those purse strings and your poems I guarantee you the money will bring
Just not right now I’m afraid
Build yourself something of a reputation
‘Til one day, without even realising it
You become what the papers will call an overnight sensation

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