Member Poem

As a kid, I'd scribble lines with glee,
Writing poems, oh so carefree.
For a grade, I'd weave words together,
Thinking I was quite the poet, clever!

Teachers praised my rhyming style,
With gold stars, they'd make me smile.
But little did I know back then,
Writing for grades was just a yen.

Now, as an adult, I wield my pen,
In hopes my poems bring some yen.
No more gold stars, just bills to pay,
Oh, how life's realities have their way!

I ponder rhymes, and syllables count,
Hoping my verses will surely amount
To a paycheck that eases my strife,
And keeps me living the poet's life.

But the market's tough, competition fierce,
Writing poems for pay can be quite a pierce.
So I juggle themes, and chase trends,
Searching for those lucrative poetic ends.

From love to cats, and the moon above,
I craft my verses with desperate love.
Oh, to make a living with witty lines,
And finally taste those poetic dimes!

But whether kid or grown-up with bills,
Writing poems is a passion that thrills.
Though the paycheck may not always flow,
In my heart, the poet's fire will always glow.

So, here I am, still chasing the dream,
Juggling words and rhymes like an acrobat's theme.
For money or fame, it's all just a game,
But hey, at least my poems make people chuckle, all the same!