J
Jerry
Guest
Am I a poet? I really don’t know, how would you judge such a thing?
I don’t write of seasons, of mists or of snow, or the sound of sweet birdsong in spring
I don’t write of autumn, the falling of leaves, these things we can all plainly see
A mighty oak verdant, resplendent with leaves? Sorry, to me it’s a tree
I don’t write of emotions, of true love and passion, for we all have experienced these
And we all know the feeling of summer sunshine and the scent of wild flowers on the breeze
Why would I write of the babbling stream, everyone’s heard one of those
And beautiful maidens, glimpsed in a dream, just don’t have a place in my prose
As for spiritual insights, they just leave me cold, I really don’t know what they are
The only spirit I’ve met in the whole of my life was dispensed in a glass in a bar
But sometimes I share some events in my life, things that are unique to me
That’s the nearest I come to “serious” verse, I leave the rest to the others you see
And sometimes I write some comical nonsense that seems to be quite well received
And everyone tells me how clever I am but I think that you’ve all been deceived
‘Cos if I was clever I’d know what to do, the solution I’d have in a tick
How to unblock my brain and get myself going and finish that damn silly Epic
I don’t write of seasons, of mists or of snow, or the sound of sweet birdsong in spring
I don’t write of autumn, the falling of leaves, these things we can all plainly see
A mighty oak verdant, resplendent with leaves? Sorry, to me it’s a tree
I don’t write of emotions, of true love and passion, for we all have experienced these
And we all know the feeling of summer sunshine and the scent of wild flowers on the breeze
Why would I write of the babbling stream, everyone’s heard one of those
And beautiful maidens, glimpsed in a dream, just don’t have a place in my prose
As for spiritual insights, they just leave me cold, I really don’t know what they are
The only spirit I’ve met in the whole of my life was dispensed in a glass in a bar
But sometimes I share some events in my life, things that are unique to me
That’s the nearest I come to “serious” verse, I leave the rest to the others you see
And sometimes I write some comical nonsense that seems to be quite well received
And everyone tells me how clever I am but I think that you’ve all been deceived
‘Cos if I was clever I’d know what to do, the solution I’d have in a tick
How to unblock my brain and get myself going and finish that damn silly Epic