I see words;
words upon the lines of,
being cannon-fodder for poems;
whilst I am the general factotum.
By the Book (sic)
By the Book (sic)
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Tag Archives: words
I wrote a poem
I wrote a poem
and don’t you know it
because I am a passable poet;
you’d pass me in the street
without any recognition,
not realising that I
suffer from a poem-writing condition.
.
My words are known all around the world,
as others use these same words a lot
it’s only the new ones that I create,
that people find so hard to spot.
The words must be writ
I wrote a poem
That had some worth
and then the words
Disappeared in mirth;.
.
They laughed at me
As they left my sight
And when they were gone
I felt so slight.
.
Where did they go?
I do not know;
Shall they be found…?
I don the writer’s garb
I don the writer’s garb
(get dressed)
and scribe my words
(write things)
be they sad or droll
(random things)
until the muse flys off
(until my head hurts).
When they said…
When they said,
‘There’s a bounty on your head!’
I checked for chocolate.
But found none.
I asked them what they’d meant,
and they said, ‘Give it up…
for Lent.’
What cheekie chappies they are.
My task (if I choose to choose it)
My task –
if I choose to choose it –
is to write a poem that includes the word,
‘redintegate’.
But, as I have so much upon my plate,
I shall have to decline,
and prevaricate.
When your brain is having a bit of a day off
When the words that normally flow
have gone somewhere
that only they know,
a degree of silence
may be forthcoming.
Saviour?
I helped to save
a grasshopper,
an unknown bug,
and a bit of twig,
from the water
in a water bowl
that I had left out
for a dog,
a hog,
or a hydrophobic frog
on a gap year.
I almost saw myself
as some kind of a saviour;
they probably saw me as a
naughty boy
of long-term bad behaviour,
trying to redeem the voucher of himself.
When there’s a bee in your beer
When there’s a bee in your beer
please remove it;
I know you’ll be left with an ‘r’,
but I think that is better by far.
If there’s a bee in your ear,
and it’s not that easy to hear;
well, that’s a different matter altogether.
Early Morning Poetry Creation (06:49-06:53)
Having said al that
in my last post,
I should also,
at this moment,
now,
warn you about poetry
that is written mid-morning (5-8am).
It can be even worse than late-night words
written when tired,
n that,
the brain, not having woken up,
will be outputting all sorts
of strange thoughts –
none of which should be written down,
or acted upon.
There is a very small window
of tiime
fir the writing of a decent rhyme—
and ‘now’ isn’t it.
Graeme Sandford 