Andy Brookes Poems
|602.||The Sum Of Parts Return To Ashes||2/18/2017|
|603.||A Bad Poem On Bad Poems, Written Badly And Rhyming Sadly.||2/18/2017|
|605.||I'm Going To Sue Santa||12/6/2014|
|609.||Squaring The Circle -new-||9/18/2017|
|615.||I'm Only Human||12/14/2014|
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 ...
I am stopped.
a harsh light examines my existence
Silenced literally, vocal chords stilled.
A nodule the doctors says,
I freeze, thoughts elliptical,
returning full stops