Friendship isn't clean

Here I am, the girl with spunk
who thinks that poetry is junk
My writer friends with whom I've hung
and I'm the only one unsung
They gathered round my head to bonk
and rather like geese did honk:
"Silly girl, you've sat too long
writing lines that weren't wrong!
You sat there sadly, and to think!
Your ship came in and there did sink."
I thought I'd heard the familiar ring
that oft missed opportunities bring.
They are good friends, on that I'll bank
and often I have them to thank.
So oft have they my praises sang
that ends this poem now with a bang!