Sonnet 229

Why should I pander to sad critics lame
There to some unnamed failure beg my worth,
For where in lines of rhyme shine forth their fame,
What treasured musings might yet give them berth?
Why suffer censure from some petty pen
That sees no color in another’s ink,
Damning proud verse that may there be arraigned
For adjudged slights from lines they could n’er think?
Why pageant skill to mediocrity,
Or ask opinion from a biased heart?
How can a dullard yet with brilliance see
Where jealousy black shadow does impart?
Let bards be judged by words they fairly writ
And not by fools that never penned a whit.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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