My poetry's my heritage

But how much is that worth

When anyone with any thought

Is able to give birth

To a line or two,

Here and there?

We plonk words down,

Without a care.

Is my poetry worthy?

Is my poetry great?

How am I supposed to judge

All that I create?

The offspring of my feelings,

The words that proclaim my needs

The words a quiet history

Of my feelings and deeds.

Every feeling within me

Sows a dozen more seeds

But I need to know the worth of words

For bad seeds shouldn't grow

And bad words must go unheard.