Wanted: Patron

I cannot bear this modern poet’s life.
For God’s sake, inspiration only lasts
as long as discretionary funds are rife.
It seems the bank doth future fame forecast.

Did Shakespeare have a day job? I think not!
His muse was kind as long as bills were paid
by his Dark Lady. It seems success is bought
and sold, and art in gold and silver weighed.

Be you ecclesiastical or noble,
my work is sure to please your worthy tastes
with themes immortal, relevant and global,
and as you like it: Cyprian or chaste.

And so, aristocrats and CEOs,
Please cast the glow of greenish glory hither!
Until you do, I fear I may compose
such mediocre verse as this, then wither

much like the ripest grape upon the vine.
Alas, let poverty not pull me to decline.