To Be A Writer

I am not P.B Shelly

Whose work achieved mortality

Nor am I Shakespeare

Whose characters were so tragic

In hearts, they remain forever

All these so known

And so great

Had so much in tone

And received much fame

Wish I could have such brains

To compose, create and originate

To have timeless, eternal

Everlasting name

But the time in this century

Is running at a pace

And left all the worries

To do a thousand tasks a day

Where is a wilderness, the hush, the solitude

To create a poem to be valued

Oh! And I will always wish

To be so great and praised

So that my works perish

As long as it stays