Sowing In Fertile Ground Poem by Francie Lynch

I have two brains inside my head,
Sharing thoughts in synoptic threads;
Sifting what's been heard and said,
Random, weird, rational doubts,
It's no surprise many fall out.

Like mustard seeds some fall near stones,
And wither away before full grown;
Un-liked, un-loved, barely a hit,
Not to pass our reader's lips:
"Have I sown more bullshit? "

Some scatter near the thorny bush,
The root is strong, but growth gets crushed;
It seems I can't discriminate
What readers like and what they hate:
"I need re-evaluate: Am I writing for writing's sake? "

Some thoughts find richness firmly grounded,
The how and why leaves me confounded;
But the ideas blossom, some are priceless,
A palate treat with figurative spices:
"Now, this is more to my reader's liking."