Poem of the Week: A Writer’s Work

A Writer’s Work
August 14, 2018

A writer’s work is never done,
Whether it’d be a chore or fun,
And it starts when you begin your first book,
So have a moment and take a look
For something that stimulates your mind.
Then, from there, it’s to the grind
To work on something hopefully fresh
That puts your talents to the test,
Telling a new tale that with which
Has turned on your brain like a light switch
Flipped by a soul entering a dark room.
Question, though, is will your mind bloom
With twists and turns for your tale to take,
Or will your brain suddenly hit the breaks
Once your idea first hits the page,
Then fume and boil with flustered rage
As it tries to think of what comes next,
Only to end up hopelessly vexed?
After all, it pays not to force
A story that simply won’t take course,
And it only makes sense instead to try
Another route by which your brain won’t fry,
Taking notes along the way
To see just how your story will sway
And taking control when things get rough
‘Til your tale’s at last solid enough
To submit to an agent, who
Won’t turn up her nose and go “poo-poo”
All over it like it’s a load of crap
Like a free-to-play, pay-to-win phone app,
But show it to a publisher, who will
Give it the attention it needs to fill
Your dream of giving the next generation
Something to inspire their station.
Then, should your book become a hit,
Who knows which step you may see fit?
A sequel, perchance, to book one
With more to come ‘til the series is done?
Another work that’s entirely new
To give readers’ brains something to do?
Perhaps a new genre entirely
To show what kind of writer you can be?
Also, what of the meet-and-greets
That take you out of the writer’s seat
So you can show gratitude towards your fans
For making you famous ‘cross the land?
What of the interviews and conventions
Where you talk about your written inventions
Old and new and try to showcase
Your best side and thus make a good case
For your right to be written in history’s
Annals as one whose work’s worthy to see?
What ‘bout a new agent, should the one
Working for you announces he or she is done?
Who’ll help you spread your name far and wide
As the greatest writer on the countryside?
Do you look for a new one and carry on
Living out your dream until you’re gone,
Or do you retire to live off of
The cash you’ve made from your labor of love?
Whatever the case, one thing’s for sure
In this land so riddled with the impure:
A writer’s work is never done
Once it begins ‘neath Heaven’s sun
’Til he or she him- or herself calls it quits,
And that’s only when he or she sees fit.
Don’t you give up, then, literary stars,
For you could someday reach past Mars
And give the masses a reason to care
‘Bout what you’ve to say to all anywhere,
And your legacy shall live on for days,
Weeks, months, years—eons, in some ways.
All you need to do is take that first step,
And you just might be successful yet.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk
Twitter: @DustinMWeber18

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Poem of the Week: Rambling Poem about Originality Allegedly Being Dead

Rambling Poem about Originality Allegedly Being Dead
July 26, 2018

Is originality really dead, or did we just stop trying?
‘Cause it always seems there’s a reboot or another that leaves folks crying,
And even the new stuff that comes out we’ve somehow seen before,
And even the adaptations of other media has naught in store
When it comes to telling stories to audiences young and old,
Thus leaving us deliberately telling others what we’ve been told
When we were young, which in turn robs them of their identity
In that they’ve nothing to call their own while folks like you and me
Can reminisce o’er the “good ol’ days,” even when they weren’t that great.
Then again, at least we have something over which we can debate
While the youngsters are left to gush o’er that which they’re told is “new”
‘Til the day comes when they realize that the product doesn’t hold true
And the flaws at last become apparent in their grown-up sight,
Especially when compared to the original source day or night—
Namely the lack of spirit that the original once had
That gave it the spark it needed to thrive through times good and bad,
And if only said spirit can live on in what we create today,
We wouldn’t be sitting ‘round grumbling and mumbling all blessed day
‘Bout the past we knew and the tales we shared back before life turned bleak—
All the more reason for me to believe that maybe that which we seek
Is simple creative spirit—nothing more and nothing less
Than pure mental energy guided by the will to put out the best
Material one possibly can, whether it tells what we’ve been told
Or something new we haven’t seen yet that’s actually fresh and bold.
In short, maybe what we need to do is just start up from the ground
And write our stories organically in hopes that they look and sound
Remarkable enough to stand the test of time just like
The tales of yore we knew and loved when they first came down the pike.
After all, just how do you think such tales came to be
To entertain and educate the likes of you and me?
Maybe we should all take the hint, then, and try to start anew
In the hopes of forging that which we’ve been seeking: something new,
Even if it somehow happens to be old at the same time.
Either way, so long as the quality of the tale proves sublime
And every set piece works, that’s enough to make me smile
And satisfy my imagination at least for a little while.
Perhaps, then, something original will indeed one day come at last
And save us from this hole we’ve dug ourselves in, daughters and sons,
For only in learning from our past will our future be bright.
At any rate, ladies and gents, we can’t afford to give up this fight.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk
Twitter: @DustinMWeber18

Poem of the Week: Nap Attacks

Nap Attacks
April 14, 2018

I’m trying to get things done ‘round here,
But sleeping’s always taking me down.
I try to stay awake,
But things just don’t take,
And progresswise, I gain no ground.

Too often do I end up lying down
To catch some Z’s, only to awake
After an hour
Once I reach full power.
Honestly, how much more can I take?

Maybe it’s this project over which I’ve been a flake,
Having worked on it for hours,
Or perhaps it’s the fear
Of that “Best of luck, dear”
That’s been draining me of all my power.

Either way, my dream shan’t bloom like a flower
With this habit I’ve been dealing with here..
It’s time to stand my ground
‘Fore my skills break down
And in the wrong direction I steer.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Nightmares from Yesterday

Nightmares from Yesterday
April 5, 2018

I’ve had it!
I’ve had enough—
Enough of the past,
Enough of nightmares,
Nightmares from yesterday,
Nightmares from my youth,
Youth that stunk,
Youth ill-spent—
Spent wasting time,
Spent putting up with idiots,
Idiots who dismissed me as worthless,
Idiots who treated me like trash—
Trash meant to be thrown away
Trash meant to be burned.
Burned I’ve been.
Burned I still am.
Am I ever to let go?
Am I ever to move on,
On towards success,
On towards the future,
Future full of respect,
Future when people see?
See that I’m worth something,
See what I’m about—
About moving forward,
About rising up,
Up like a phoenix,
Up to take my place—
Place amongst the greats who’ve come before me,
Place I long should’ve been,
Been by now,
Been in a perfect world.
World always in need of fresh material…
World ever yearning for good storytelling…
Storytelling that helps the world turn,
Storytelling to help take us away—
Away from drudgery,
Away from chaos,
Chaos otherwise unavoidable—
Chaos of the material world,
World too quick to close in on us all,
World that’s a mess—
Mess of violence and disease,
Mess of maniacs and morons,
Morons like the ones I’ve dealt with,
Morons like those from my nightmares.
Nightmares, let me be!
Nightmares, I wish thee gone.
Be…
Gone!

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: A Long-Overdue Rant on Internet Grammar in the 2010s

A Long-Overdue Rant on Internet Grammar in the 2010s
January 9, 2018

Fifteen to twenty years ago, when I’d surf the ‘Net,
Grammar made sense just like it did in school.
Nowadays, though, old man that I am, I can’t help but fret
At how today’s folks write ‘cause it isn’t cool.

Miscaps here, misspellings there, lack of punctuation all around—
It’s all enough to make me sick to my gut.
I hate the way it looks on screen and even the way it sounds
When I read it aloud and witness the kind of rut

Society’s now in mentally ‘cause honestly, what the hell
Has become of us from a written point of view?
We used to be so neat and concise, but these days, all’s not well.
Where did we go so wrong out of the blue?

Have we really gotten so stressed for time that we cannot bear
To take a moment to write a sentence right,
Or have we just gotten lazy and stopped giving any care
To what we publish on the Internet day and night?

I only ask ‘cause not only is our grammar collectively
Devolving, but so is our sense of thought,
For no longer do we think through what we want others to see
Or hear, even though deep down we know we ought.

Somebody stinks at something? We scold them, “Git gud, scrub!”
Something angers us? We type IN ALL CAPS
With multiple exclamation points ‘cause we’re just that livid, bub,
And are in that serious need of a nap.

Its versus It’s, Then versus Than, There versus They’re versus Their
Not to mention Yore versus You’re versus Your
This misuse of similar-sounding words is more than I can bear…
And yes…bear! Not bare. Leave that at the door

Right along with your ellipses used in the place of periods
‘Cause they’re made of three periods themselves, right?
Also, Dont versus Don’t? Isnt versus Isn’t? Whose teaching these kids
How to not use apostrophes day and night?

Notice, too, how I used Also to start a sentence rather than And
Like we ‘80s kids were taught once upon a time,
For conjunctions’ function is to join sentences and fragments at hand,
Not start them like we do now, friends of mine.

Alas, though, each mid-paragraph, it’s And, But, Or all day,
Every day like it’s nobody else’s bloody biz,
Right along with the double negatives like don’t none and ain’t no way.
It’s insulting, even to one who’s not a grammar wiz.

Comparative forms in adjectives these days also makes me mad.
I’m sure you, too, have noticed this vexing matter,
For kids and even adults now say more hairy, more petty, and more sad
As opposed to hairier, pettier, and sadder.

To think, too, I’ve only scratched the surface of this steaming mess,
And the more I look, the less relief I see.
I know it’s petty and paranoid of me, but I can’t rest
As I wonder where the world’s literacy could be.

Am I overreacting? Are things really that bad?
Will we ever revolve from where we are now?
All I know is how all this bad grammar’s been making me sad
And wish that we could go back some way, somehow.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Back to the Drawing Board

Back to the Drawing Board
December 17, 2017

I thought I was finished. I thought that I was done,
But alas…it’s back to the drawing board for me,
For with this one project of mine, I’d jumped the gun,
As it’s still not the best of its kind it can be.
The plot’s all sloppy and all over the dang place;
The characters are blander than cold, stale gruel;
And even my grammar’s trash. Oh, what a disgrace!
How could I be so dang negligent and cruel?
Usually I know better than to leave things
In such a tasteless, amateurish disarray,
But lately, my day job ‘s call relentlessly sings,
And my dream’s been slipping further and more away.
Oh, well…’nough complaining! Time to get back to work
And make up for being such an unmindful jerk.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Another Day for Writer’s Block

Another Day for Writer’s Block
October 10, 2017

Another day, week, month, year…
Another year flushed, I fear.
What am I doing?
Why am I screwing
Myself out of what I hold dear?

So many years put to waste
All ‘cause I failed to make haste
In following my dreams.
Now here I scream
As my brain melts into a paste.

It certainly helps me not,
For nary a rhyme I’ve got
For this rant of mine
At this very time.
Oy vey! What a time for brain rot!

Only mid-aged, and already I
Can feel my brain cells die.
What a drag and a joke
To be mentally broke
At this moment ‘neath Heaven’s blue sky.

Then again, that’s why I write.
It’s how I carry on my own fight
Against mental decay
During these dark days
When we’re all searching for the light.

I’ve always loved to create.
That’s one thing not up for debate.
Be it fiction or prose,
Writing cures my woes
In this world of despair and hate.

Writing gives me a holiday
From the crap of this age and day.
It gives me an escape
From the fools, creeps, and flakes
And all the crap they do and say.

When I write, I’m in control,
Creating characters with soul
To which one can relate
And appreciate
In my story throughout its whole.

It’s the thing I’ve got control of,
Hence why it’s the one thing I love,
And one can’t take away
How it makes my day
And fits like a custom-made glove.

Such is why others like to write,
For writing shows us the light
And allows us to be
All that we can be
And in turn make their cases right.

Such is what writing for us brings,
And I hope to make it the thing
One of these days
In one or another way
For me so tat I can sing

Happily ever after,
My voice ringing through the rafters,
Not only to claim
Fortune and fame,
But something else that I’m after:

The honor of leaving a mark
And a chance to lead folks from the dark
And into the light
To make things right.
That’s the prize for which this dog barks.

Alas, though, it comes without shock
That even I face writer’s block.
It’s a pain to work through,
I’m telling you,
But it’s a case I can’t help but mock,

For the one thing want most of all
Has led me smack into a wall.
I don’t mean to complain,
Either, ‘bout this pain,
For I know I must work through it all,

And work through it I shall,
For I ‘lone hold myself back, pal,
‘Til I fire myself up.
Then, all will know “what’s up,”
And prove my true worth I shall,

Be it one way or another.
There’ll be no stopping me, brother,
Once I get back on track
And clean up my act.
Once I do, I’ll take off like no other.

Just you wait and see there, jack,
For while you may see me as a hack,
I’ll get back on my feet
And scoff at defeat
For daring to give me and slack,

And my detractors, for their flack,
Will, too, understand I’m not whack
No matter how bizarre
My works to them are,
And their respect I’ll have, too, mack.

‘Tl then, here I am, brain in head
Rotting ‘way ‘til I end up dead,
‘Lest I get my rear
Finally in gear
And at last pout this block to bed,

For I alone hold the key
To seek what’s in store for me,
And once I start,
I know I’ll be a part
Of the system. Just you wait and see.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk