TEN ASPIRING WRITERS by Barrie Purnell


TEN ASPIRING WRITERS by Barrie Purnell

Once there were ten aspiring writers

At first everything was fine

One did not understand punctuation,

Notably the apostrophe’s location,     

So then there were nine.

There were now nine aspiring writers

But one failed to differentiate

Their acronyms from their synonyms,

Their allonyms from their pseudonyms,

So then there were eight.

 

There were now eight aspiring writers

Sadly one was taken up to heaven.

Their death by electrocution

Severely limiting their contribution

So then there were seven.

 

There were now seven aspiring writers

But one was given to polemics

Chairman ruled it counterproductive,

Said this criticism wasn’t constructive,

So then there were six.

 

There were now six aspiring writers

But one of them didn’t survive

The pressure of periodic presentation

Which led to the death of inspiration                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

So then there were five.

 

There were now five aspiring writers

But one was shown the door

The pieces they wrote were much too long,

And the sexual content much too strong,

So then there were four.

 

There were now four aspiring writers

One was told their poetry should be free

But, for the purposes of timing,

They insisted it must be rhyming

So then there were three.

 

There were now three aspiring writers

There was him and me and you

They said I used too many clichés, I was cut to the quick,

I could see the writing on the wall, I had to get out quick,

So then there were two.

 

There were now two aspiring writers

They could see nothing could be done.

These writers were quite bereft

They put their pens in their pockets and left

And then there were none.

 

With the writers gone the room was silent

The empty table spoke of shattered dreams

Empty chairs a testament to their conceit,

Their struggles and their ultimate defeat

They’d found writing is not as easy as it seems.

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