Dear mister editor,
I find it fatal
For you condemn my writing style,
And judge me as being too banal
To be considered,
As a poet for your paper,
I am not admitted
With my banal style.
Oh, what a noose of nooses,
Van Nierop rejects me,
I cannot digest it,
In your editorial staff
I would have surely found
The ideal position,
But through my anti-sins
This hope is dashed.
To publish in Nierop’s paper,
That would have been so fine,
But sadly I displayed
Too banal a spirit.
I am not chosen,
I am not up to date,
Every chance is now lost,
Please understand how much I regret it.
I had a splendid promotion
Foolishly squandered now,
For such a poetic deal
Will surely never
Be given to me.
It’s a colossal misfortune,
I’ve thrown away my entire life,
My entire future.
Only one consolation remains,
Though it is exceedingly weak:
It would have been bad if you wrote,
You did not find me banal.
Post-Editing: Marloes Abeling, Rober Saunders
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