HE WHO WOULD JUDGE

I have read all the entries
while sitting here beneath a light
taking all the time I please.
I sure do wish that ya'll could write!

This one here? it just won't work
( I know the author's politics)
and he must really be a jerk
his ideas give me nervous tics

And this one only has near rhyme;
I guess the writer must be lazy
and thus hardly worth my time.
I reckon he must think I'm crazy.

And here lies a bolb typo!
and although the poem is good
I can't allow carelessness so...
I toss it out just as I should.

This one is a darn free verse !
The poet did not read directions
which makes me sit and softly curse
sending me further into introspections.

This one has no punctuation,
a bit of a pet peeve of mine,
so it's sent to its damnation.
I'll let it wither on its vine.

This one has a bad mizzpell
that one a bad rhythm stumble,
Both of them can go to hell
as I sit here and begin to mumble.

I sit and read and fume and read.
Nobody here writes as well as me.
They enter contests for fame and greed;
none are near as perfect as me.

The windowed door opens with a soft squeak.
I rise and see the orderly.
I stare at him he, doesn't speak.
I'm just another patient, see.

He leads me from my padded room,
it's time some more memories are lost
which leads to further skill set's doom.
I keep screaming "I'm Robert Frost!, I'm Robert Frost!"

**The opinions expressed are not those of the writer and any semblance to actual people is....zzzzzzt