People often ask (they don't ask me; why would they?) what a writer is.
Well a writer is someone who writes – not someone who gets paid for it, or 'sells' it or gets published – a writer is someone who writes; and says something.
A lot of writers write and they get paid for it and what they write doesn't amount to a hill of beans.
Here is the last part of the only poem I ever wrote; it's all I have to say:
But the writer was always the little fella;
The little fella who had to meet the big bad bullies
When he was at school; the big bad bullies
That made him take part
In their big bad bumpy games,
Which would frighten the poor little fella,
At that very early and tender age
When all the boys had to learn to head the greasy orb
Which they called a football;
Had to go into that big bad world
Which they called a school;
Had to find out that most of the bullies
Were the teachers: teachers who took great pleasure
And unnatural delight
In striking many a young child across the backside
With their canes and slippers;
But the little writer would get his own back
On the big bad bullies for he would write about them.
Sometimes, but not often, the big bad bully
Would read what the little writer had written
And knock the be Jesus out of him;
Break his glasses,
Knock the pen out of the little fella’s hand
And burn his books:
At four hundred and fifty one degrees Fahrenheit.
But there was always somebody
To pick up that pen and look up,
Up towards the stars in the heaven
Where they would seek the same stimulation;
And the man with the pen would look down and give it.
Interpret it as you wish and if you wish to hear the full text with picture it's here: