'Novel' Pain

I wasn’t poor, being not rich 
Life was fine, thanks to hope 
All that changed, owing to muse, 
With one ‘novel’ passion pure
Affairs I had, ten of them 
Unknown to the lovers of books,
Coldshouldered by publishing folk 
Manuscripts those ten make pillows 
In my bed to cause nightmares,
With hope dead, I can’t dream
Now I’m poor, robbed of hope. 
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This was penned before I turned the 'ten' into free ebooks 

 https://www.google.com/search?q=bs+murthy+author&oq=Bs+&aqs=chrome.0.69i59l2j69i57j69i60l3.3727j1j8&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

My 'Novel' Account of Human Possibility
https://bulususmurthy.blogspot.com/2019/08/my-novel-account-of-human-possibility.html

Domain of the Devil - A Satire on Indian English Publishing https://bulususmurthy.blogspot.com/2019/09/domain-of-devil-satire-on-indian.html

My maiden 'Novel' Blues https://bulususmurthy.blogspot.com/2019/09/my-maiden-novel-blues.html