I found it hard to become a poet
for I found no rhyme nor reason to it.
I tried being a man of the cloth for a spell
but I hadn't a prayer, in the end it was hell.
Working in a coffee shop I tended to find,
it was just the same old daily grind.
I tried teaching history but boredom blew it,
as I couldn’t see a future to it.
I fancied being a doctor but soon withdrew
as I hadn’t the patience to see it through.
I went to Canada with some lumberjacks
but couldn’t cut it, so I got the axe.
Hired by a shoe shop for a little bit
but failed again ‘coz I didn’t fit.
First day in the match factory, quick as you like,
the entire workforce went on strike.
I tried oil drilling and exploring
but things looked black and the work was boring.
So, I’m back as a poet, a blessing and curse,
writing away from bad to verse.
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