A Sad Rival-less Poet's Balladry
I lack a rival, an uncommon lack.You’d think this cut throat world would be filled with’em.
I’ve yet to find them and I’ve not been slack.
I’ve not met one who can quite match my rhythm.
It’s not the worst but still a damn setback.
I thought great writing came from this great schism.
Oh well, I wrote this so you’d pity me.
A sad rival-less poet’s balladry.
I’ve done gone up and down this blue green world.
I started in Nepal and ended up
In America, where-to-fore I was hurled
Back home hands empty like a porous cup.
My hopes diminishing like petals curled
Back to the stem, encased in dried syrup.
It’s still quite hard to swallow I met not
One fellow whom to spar with when I jot.
I still have half a hope in penning this
Someone might read and think to challenge me.
If they so did that’d be poetic bliss;
The birth of Wordsworthian rivalry.
But no, I know, I know, it’s just a wish:
A rival-less poet’s sad fantasy
That has as much a chance to come true as
A monocled monkey that plays cool jazz.
Poetry by Sameen
Written on 2026-06-10 at 16:48
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