In the plenary annals of frivolous verse
There are poems unpublished and clearly substandard,
An embarrassing fact, neither blessing nor curse,
But a question of whether a poet has pandered
To the powers that be or the weak and the poor.
Though it’s tempting to dwell in the house of the latter,
More rejections will come if you open that door,
So take heed of the practical issues that matter
And refrain from embracing a virtuous cause,
For a serious note is a grave imperfection
In a poem that’s meant to elicit applause
From an editor hostile to sober reflection.