The Editors? Adaptable,
Inversions, though, they’ll hate,
Part-rhymes and chimes identical
They do not tolerate.
Insist, resist, persist? Desist,
Or they will press 'Delete'.
Your earnest efforts won’t be missed
If standards you can’t meet.
Should clichés be your go-to thing
Or slang in any circs,
A finer song you’ll need to sing
Or they’ll reject your works.
All antique words, forsooth, forbear,
They must not be employed.
Keep up to date, but shun what’s rare.
Whenever possible excise
As feeble, trite, jejune,
Most witty things you thought were wise,
But jotted down too soon.
Just load each line with metaphor
And passion’s hottest fire;
That’s what the reader’s better for
And editors desire.
Resign yourself, as you await
The moguls’ grand decision,
To finding lines you thought first-rate
Were greeted with derision.
Don’t kick the cat, or foam and fret
Your feelings to release
When you receive polite regret
They can’t accept your piece.
Tough luck to tangle, so to speak,
With back-evolving brains;
Next time, they may perceive the peak
To which your verse attains.
If not, calm down and don't request
An ombudsman’s decider;
Since they want better, send your best:
Remember Bruce's spider.