Poetasters love each other's poems,
They praise and stroke and compliment and seem
To care about each other and their work.
They are happy in their vanity -
A vanity that is like monkeys grooming -
But vanity like this is more like love.
Friends are made and poetry forgotten -
While talent, skill and genius are alone
In solitude creating what will last
Known to them but unbeknownst to them.
If you have any comments on this poem, Joseph Hart would be pleased to hear from you.