Poetry helps me pass the time;
when I get bored, I turn to rhyme.
I\'ve had some published in a book,
not that I give a flying f**k.
I know my verse is often gushing;
enough to burn one\'s cheeks from blushing,
but dirty laundry gets no airing
and on my page there\'s seldom swearing.
Poetry\'s the art of showing
beauty\'s all around us flowing
in a never ending stream,
wants to wake us from our dream!
Vies with us to vary vision
in the valley of decision.
Preaches, but it\'s never prying;
it tells the truth in land of lying.
Poetry helps me pass the time.
In lockdown, poets turn to rhyme;
we push our pens across the pages.
Defiant, as the fever rages.