He don’t care a toss

He told me my poetry’s dross;

And he says he don’t care a  toss.

Well,at least I do try.

So  he can cover his eyes.

Let’s see who feels the worst loss.

My English is getting real quaint;

Standard it certainly ain’t.

I write like a foreigner

Who’s studied astronomy.

I feel upset when my paper is feint.

Some people write  with aplomb.

So we must admire them and some!

Others are tentative

Faintly lamentative

All I can say is,how come?

I had an inchoate dream.

Woke the cat up with a scream.

No detail remains

But my complexion is stained

With tears   for I  saw the word “MEME”.