poem

Spectacles (A One Minute Rhyme)

these glasses do not favour me
you couldn’t say they’re cool
they’re too big for my little head
and make me look a tool

but if I didn’t wear them
I couldn’t read or write
so I guess that I’m stuck with them
though I look a proper sight

even with them on my face
I bump my head a lot
so I really must be careful
it’s the only head I’ve got

I’ll live with the fact they’re rather sad
and just a fashion folly
they don’t make me look like Richard Gere
just a grey haired Buddy Holly

Real Poets (final version)

real poets dress in ruffled shirts
with frock coats velvet long
I write in my underpants
which seems a little wrong.

real poets they have tragedy
in which each line is wrought
I think I’m quite a happy chap
with nae a darkened thought.

real poets all have fancy names
to hang their words upon
or multiple initials
whilst I have just the one.

real poets puff on opium
to let their minds fly free
or seek fairies in the absinthe
I like a cup of tea.

real poets suffer greatly
and have consumption too
death always hangs around them,
hmm, well I did just have the flu.

real poets finish poems
unless they die before
my words tend to fizzle out
when I haven’t any more