Advice not Taken
She said to me you are still writing doggerel perhaps it's time that you gave it away
About the World around you and it's problems 'twould seem to me you've said all you can say
You've had your go at writing rhymes to Nature yet of Nature there's not much you seem to know
Where you came from life there goes on without you and the stream downland to meet the river flow.
Her words of advice I did not pay much heed to and though it may be true that I pen doggerel
In every day we live there is a story and for as long as I live my stories I will tell
To put my pen away would be the last straw and the only one to suffer would be me
And I'll keep penning doggerel till the reaper claims me and that will be up to the powers that be.
She did not even rate me as a minor writer and what she said may very well be true
I know I'm not a poet or never could be and poets 'twould seem have never been so few
But as long as the brown skylark in the Springtime will fly upwards to carol in the sky
Then I'll be writing doggerel with a passion and that will be until the day I die.
Her advice to me is advice not taken since I've never written for wealth or fame
If I were money hungry I'd not be penning doggerel for writing verse is a hungry belly game
I write because it's part of my existence and one might say it is my life's destiny
And if her advice to me I had taken the only one to suffer would be me.
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