I’m a sitting duck

Quacking on a pond

Minding my own business

Surrounded by blind hunters

Fully locked and loaded

And itching to fire

Zing one flies by

Boom and then another

Rat a tat tat

Goes the machine gun

Then silence except for


I’m a poet sitting

On a pond minding

My own business writing

Do not blame me

If you don’t understand

Or don’t like or

Prefer someone else’s writing

As someone yesterday so

Eloquently shot at me

I’m here to quack

And paddle about on

The pond called poetry