Tag Archives: words

What I see

I see words;

words upon the lines of,

being cannon-fodder for poems;

whilst I am the general factotum.

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.