Poetry helps me pass the time;
when I get bored, I churn out rhyme.
I've had some published in a book,
not that I give a flying f**k.
I know my verse is gauche and gushing,
enough to burn your 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,
deeper than you dare to dream!
It vies with us to vary vision
in the valley of decision.
Preaches, but it's never prying;
it trades in truth, not loathsome 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.
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 14th, 2020 12:10
- Comment from author about the poem: for my poet friends
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 27
Offline)
Comments3
Yes you cracked that one. I'm left with rhythm, rhyme and in the end, laughter. Cheered me up no end.
Regards Dog. Dave
Poetry saved my mind when my wife was suffering from dementia and has ben there for me since she passed.
Andy
Sorry to hear about your wife. Yeah, let's keep pouring out our verse. 😉
'I've had some published in a book,
not that I give a flying f**k.'
said like a true Poet!
a wonderfully witty write,
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