Gun Fhàilte/ unwelcome Poem by Ewen A Morrison

Visitor
Had come to stay forevermore,
As it felt with a proficient bore:
Minutes like days, days as years,
Wearying time for our poor ears.

We knew nothing, he knew all,
Steadily driving us up the wall;
With thoughts absurd and inane,
His talking threatened the sane.

Paint dries faster than he'd drone,
With talk of himself and him alone;
Listening, enduring a dichotomy...
Stretching the limits of monotony?

His dreadful tongue is never still,
Such evil thoughts a mind can fill;
Draining his listeners' will to live,
Ah, so many ways for one to kill!

He's here no more, happy t' say,
Life's so good... we love it more,
At long last, he has gone away;
Life at peace without that bore!

Ewenart

© Ewen A Morrison