My unrealistic expectation

There was a poem what I wrote
And against it I stuck a note.
Please read, and comment kindly
For I am delicate
And quite shy see.
So people read
Some even left what they thinked
I went to the kitchen
And poured a drink.

It was not all bad
Some was quite nice
But not the critical acclaim
That I required
What did I think would be said?
Did I expect a 3-book deal request?
A publishing scout to seek me out
And tell me I was Britain’s best bar ought

So when online and wroting poems
Be aware I are not Chopin
Of course he’s music
Not bloomin’ words
Perhaps I meant Yeats
Or Keats or other of which you’ve heard

So next time I’ll not expect too much
And be less more nervous
About the critics trust
I’ll not cry
Or weep or moan
But learn from others
More experienced tomes
And remember the tense
When I writted
And believe there
Is talent inside me