Andy Brookes Poems
- I'm Only Human I work my fingers to the bone, And I know I ...
- Expunging Get rid old pages, lose the dross, throw them out...
- Lamination's Or Dreaming Giant... Curds of life washed up on ...
- Beeches the trees look sad today bare branched and ...
- Spinning Yarns With Woolly Tho... Every day I spin yarns ...
- Never Met Not searching For my true mother's love. Nor ...
- Papyrus Pyres Perhaps Come warm yourselves at the bonfire ...
A writer of trifles and whimsies constructions of air soon forgotten. more »
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Comments about Andy Brookes
I'm Only Human
I work my fingers to the bone,
And I know I shouldn't moan.
Not get upset about my work,
If criticised by some jerk.
It's sad to say, my skin is thin,
Tough exterior, soft within.
I try so not to let it hurt,
When hit by a poem expert.
I know I have a lot to learn,
But cruel remarks, they just burn.
And you know I have no fear,
Of ever becoming like Shakespeare.
I write just whims, airy fancies,
Which people stab with their lances.
With their thrusts they put me down,
Making me feel like a clown.
But be it good or be it ...