.6. On The Run Poem by David Threadgold

Those who know me all agree
My writing is not cursed
I write in fiction and in fact
And always end up versed

It isn’t something I had planned
So surely that’s no crime
Each time I put my pen to work
The work comes out in rhyme

I’ve tried to take my mind off it
In the countryside I’d roam
Until I see the wildlife
And it makes another poem

The other day my brother came
We both went out for dinner
He bet upon a football match
And ended up a winner

My doctor came to see me
I asked him was I sick
He said I should take senna pods
And that should do the trick

I didn’t like the look of it
A murky dark brown drink
But it cured me of my rhyming
Cos I’ve got no time to think


© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes