Dennis Hutchings Poems

I penned a rhyme I thought sublime. Rejection slips came in no time.
My efforts were described as dank. One critic even said it stank.

I penned once more, said t'was mine own. I lied ( 'cuz it was just on loan).
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At first I knew not DOS from duh, and worried not a jot.
I said life ruled by mere machines, cannot be worth a lot.

But then my skills were criticized, by people that I idolized.
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