Why Don’t I Worry About People Stealing My Poems?

I don’t worry about people stealing my poems.

I don’t want to be cynical or snarky about it.

Maybe people do steal them.

I publish most of what I write to a public blog. I’m addicted to my hit count, and a lot of the hits come from Russia.

Should that worry me?

I don’t have a copyright statement on my blog, or on any of the poems, but would that deter the Russian trolls?

Well, ha, I added one - Copyright (c) 2013-present.

Could be, my poems are published in Russia under someone else’s name, and that person gets all the benefit—

the money and glory—

but I guess I think that no one would steal my poems, because they have no theft value—no one could get money for them, or win prestige by claiming ownership.

Should I be bitter about this?

I had a technical writing job once, writing training manuals and help systems for employees of the company that paid me.

I sent stuff out for review before publishing it, but people seldom looked at it much.

One guy gave me my manual back with a paper clip attached for each of his comments—hundreds of comments—my manual came back looking like a porcupine—

but that was just to make sure I never gave him anything to review again.

How do I feel about my work having no theft value?

My co-worker John and I were talking once about how nobody looked at our work. “Perfect freedom, man!” he said.

But I know that a few people do look at some of the poems that I write nearly every day and publish on my blog.

I don’t know how often people actually read them from beginning to end.

But I know that people look at them, and I’m grateful.

Give me the roses while I live, I say.

And you do.