I'd rather write than mow the lawn, or hoover up the stairs,
My love for these has truly gorn, as one who rarely cares...
I'd rather write than wash the plates, or paint the garage door,
For such as these none celebrates, because each proves a chore...
I'd rather write than file my bills, what invoices I get!
You see, the writing gives me thrills and chills I don't regret...
I'd rather write than put up shelves and saw off planks of wood,
To tell some fairy tales of elves and witches bad and good...
I'd rather write than work all day, with nothing much to show,
Perhaps a poem or a play, my thoughts to overflow...
I'd rather write than go to sleep, but sleep I must, my friend!
Till my alarm begins to beep, then I write to
THE END...
Denis Martindale September 2016.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem