A Literary Town Poem by M.J. McGuire

Poets have gone before me,
Dancing on the head of a pen,
Slipping through eyes of needles
To a place that rests within.

There, they play some scrabble,
With puns and metaphors,
Hoping that some stanza
Will open up the doors.

Blake, he found a Tyger,
Donne, a battered heart.
Shakespeare found the stage,
Where the poet plays his part.

Me? I’ve found myself,
Vying for this crown,
Where imposters live on fringes
Of a literary town.