My Next Poem Poem by Denis Martindale

My day began, so up I got, with no plans what to do.
All tidied up, a brewed a pot, with cereal to chew...
I walked to the conservatory, sat down with pen in hand,
With paper for new poetry, some basic and some grand...

The afternoon was going well, ten poems almost done,
Yes, everything was going swell, warmed by the Summer sun...
And then he came to interrupt, my poem from its flow...
My word, that guy was quite abrupt, I thought, he'll have to go...

He was another poem, friends, they visit me that way...
And their impatience never ends, until they're done O.K.
I told him straight, to get in line! He scratched his head at this.
I told him that I must decline, as writing's hit-and-miss...

'I've got five others there outside and each must wait his turn! '
That's when the poem cried and cried, as if respect to earn...
I told him straight, 'It won't work, mate, I've seen it all before! '
He joined the queue and waited late and thought it such a bore!

But when he'd read my poem through, he wept with tears of joy!
He told me straight, 'May God bless you! It helps each girl and boy!
It teaches young and old alike! It's wonderful, my friend...'
I said, 'Goodnight, now take a hike...' Then went to bed...

THE END...


Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.