Writers are trying to make a living, and various non-sequiturs

I often come across poems I like on other blogs, and I think – oooh, I’d like to share that with my readers, too. But I don’t.
I don’t think it’s my place to publish other writers’ poems, when they are trying to make a living by selling them. If I put a poem on here, then you won’t need to buy it, will you?   (I have put poems on here, but only the poems of dead poets.)
There was a poem recently on a blog I follow everyday and yet I can’t even link you to the blog, for that would make me an accessory after the fact. I know this because I checked with my son – a most ethical person….such an ethical person that he has just told me off for killing snails that I find eating my poor clematis by the front door. (I shall never be able to call myself a Zen Buddhist, while I continue to kill snails.)

And on quite another tack…

It’s G's birthday this week. Zoe, (his mother) has made him a fire engine cake. He is besotted with fire engines, and I have bought him one to make in Lego. I also tried to find a birthday card with a fire engine on. There were racing cars, VW camper vans, trains and tractors, but was there a card with a fire engine on? Was there buffalo. Dave is drawing one now, as I speak. He’s a gem.
Newsflash – the poor little boy has been throwing up all night, so the bouncy castle is cancelled, and all that slaving over a hot fire-engine cake was for nothing. Poor Zoe.