To My Dear Brother

To my dear brother, the podunk.
I write these lines to set you straight.
You think your writing is not junk,
A soaring genius you always state

Funny it seems you have no verse,
Not a single line, not even a word.
Nothing for which one can converse
About your style so richly conferred

You write how you’re a poet so grand,
Writing for greatness and accolades;
Living your life in podunk land;
Telling us of your escapades.

You tell me each day without fail
How wonderful your writings are.
I read your words with each email
But see no verse, why so bizarre?

Your words are thin, and weakly done.
You write for money, so you say,
Yet can’t even write a simple pun.
A pun from you would be okay,
So write it now and send today!