Poet

Had I been a man- of my parents' generation I would have joined the Foreign Legion; an honorable choice at least, to turn professional adventurer, intrepid instead of ne'er do well blacksheep. But I became a poet instead, ne'er do well still, misunderstood regarded as either head-in-the-clouds dreamer hopeless romantic eccentric damn fool - or fiery lunatic rabble-rouser angst ridden. And my dedication, my life, is thought of as mere hobby not something serious definatly not a vocation. And people look at me askance, quizically when I'm asked the inevitable "What do you do?" Still, I answer "poet" proudly weaver of words, I'm "touched" yes, but- by the Muse...