I have permission, been turned loose. She told me, “Blog like Dr. Seuss.”
I won’t be crass or turn uncouth but tell you all the total truth.
I really do not like to blog. I’d rather walk a furry dog.
I really do not like to blog. I’d rather walk out in the fog.
Out in the fog, with furry dog, I do not, do not, like to blog.
I have no time to SEO, with books to write and plots to grow.
The screen becomes a frozen floe where cursors blink upon the snow,
Ideas spring vast leaks and sink when blog winds blow.
To blogging pundits’ diatribes, of “write fresh content, build your tribe,”
I bend no knee.
My kith, my kin, is Bartleby,
The Scrivener whose ink-stained pot produced the words, “I prefer not…”
Until there’s undisputed proof that blogs sell novels, stand aloof.
A siren-sweet, deceiving angle Of social media, hindering tangle,
Hold your course, and do not yaw, into its scurvy gaping maw.
Quit counting likes and netting “follows,” The habit’s sure to leave you hollow.
No! Spread imagination’s sails, Strike out in vivid, freeing tales.
She gave permission, turned me loose, and told me “Blog like Dr. Seuss.”
But Blogging is a stealthy thief, Don’t run aground upon its reef.
For all these words, the time they took, are pages stolen from a book.
These words of mine, appeared online
among replies for other’s eyes
On someone else’s blog.
Guest hostess typed, “Your words are strong, Your words are true,
I totally agree with you and want them for my next tattoo!
And let me also, cheering, say, “You win the interwebz today.”
“Your next tattoo?” I said, “That’s fine, Choose Times New Roman eight, or nine.
Get inked in red, or blue or black, From me you’ll get no words of flack.
But don’t choose green, I’ve heard it fades.
And when your phone cam has the shot, of silly, sprawling Seuss-ian dots
that spiral down your youthful gam, and you post it on Instagram,
Hashtag my name.
Please spell it right, I’d like the credit.
I’ve heard tattoos are hard to edit.”
Now is she inked? What do you think?
My rhymes, my syllables, in blue, nor green,
On Instagram are not yet seen.
Such things take time, plus skill and cash, before tattoos can make a splash.
I have permission, been turned loose. She told me, “Blog like Dr. Seuss.”
I wasn’t crass nor rude, forsooth, but told you all the total truth.
I really do not like to blog. I’d rather walk a furry dog.
I really do not like to blog. I’d rather walk out in the fog.
Out in the fog, with furry dog, I do not, do not, like to blog.

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