You are invited to the opening of a new book.
I’m rather bookish
If you’d just take a lookish
Open the pages, you’ll see.
Indices full of all manner of things
And chapters quite varied in length
A family tree that includes little me
Which is no great surprise –
“Give me strength!” You all cry. Who is this guy? Who states the blooming obvious with glee?
His book gets us snoring; it’s bland and it’s boring; so we’ll just keep ignoring, tra-la-lee!”
Is that what you all think of me?
I’m saddened to hear your cruel words.
I’m a poet
You know it
And once I even won some awards…
Well, one, a book voucher it was
I know that because
I done it
I won it
And you weren’t there
To see it
Anyhow, I have a dust-cover,
For an ancient book-lover,
That is tattered and worn at the seams
I still keep with writing
And find it inviting, inciting my words and my dreams”
(On the above)
To poor me.