A Poem
about....The Poem!
by Pauly "Poet"
Butlin
It was the night
before the deadline as I entered my home,
No beer to be found and no-one to
phone.
I was still wide awake after nine hours of slaving.
With the wages
they pay me there's never much saving
So I turned on the computer to surf on
the net,
I thought I'd check on my emails and what did I get?
There is a
message from Ronnie in a sarcastic tone
Saying to bash out a poem the minute
I get home.
Twelve hours I have been granted this ode to compose,
I had
won a competition I hadn't entered, why was it me
she had chose?
Was it
because of Ross who always contributes to these pages?
As he has a habit of
volunteering me at various stages.
If him being my boss at the fire station
isn't enough,
He has given me that pineapple again, the end that is
rough.
The email did state I must write poems for a year,
It was about
now, as I read further, That I could murder
a beer.
Ronnie could have been
more specific with a subject to write on,
Because at one in the morning,
creativity is a bit light-on.
So what is this simple fireman with a wife and
two kids,
Going to write about so the readers don't close their eyelids.
I
figure I'll just wing-it with whatever enters my head,
So it's amazing I
haven't written a poem about going to bed.I
If anyone has a topic about which
they would like me to write,
Im open to suggestions and it would seem, open
all night.
Pauly will not make this month's poem an eighteen page
saga,
Because the deadline is near and I have no lager.
I promise I get
better as we progress through the year,
But just remember that for no money
you don't get Shakespeare!