The Careers Advisor
Fame for you is but a schoolkid's dream,
Whose airy wish is like a bubble burst;
For you the modest calling is supreme,
By you the paltry aspiration's nursed.
Your punishment for this is to be cursed
In speeches made by stars who win awards:
Your blindness and your lack of faith's rehearsed,
By those who, mocking you, reap fame's rewards.
The archetype of mediocrity,
The image of detractors everywhere -
Beyond your small horizons might there be
A golden realm of which you're unaware?
And so what if your judgement's mostly sound?
It's proved by the unsung, disproved by the renowned.
If you've any comments on this poem, Colin Fairweather would be
pleased to hear from you.