If I Did Tell You Different Poem by Francis Duggan

If I Did Tell You Different



I cannot write poetry so i write rhyme rhyme instead
And i know that i will be one of the forgotten dead
But why should i worry since death of life's cares will one day set me free
The same for the wealthy and famous as it is for me
My worth as a rhymer i always do doubt
But no shortage of things for me to write rhymes about
On different things i do write every day
But that anybody can pen rhymes does seem true to say
I am one who has written pages of stuff
And for many years i have been a rhyming buff
And though some tell me on rhyming to call it a day
What i enjoy doing why should i give away
And i hope to be rhyming on the day i do die
If i did tell you different i would be telling you a lie.

Thursday, January 5, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: writings
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
from 'rhymeonly'
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Terry Craddock 06 January 2017

Down To Last Verse At The Wire I share the sentiments of a rhyming buff the joy of writing pages of poetical stuff told by friends family to give writing away in my head verse lines images invading stay I have a great hope I declare tell you this day my hopes to be writing on final curtain fall day in my head if hand cannot move eyes cannot see if you see me smiling pleased know I am eyes free be sure a poem enters exits my thoughts with ease with exciting thrilling ease last lines must squeeze Copyright © Terence George Craddock Inspired by the poem 'If I Did Tell You Different' by the poet Francis Duggan. Dedicated to the poet Francis Duggan.

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Terry Craddock 05 January 2017

I am one who has written pages of stuff And for many years i have been a rhyming buff And though some tell me on rhyming to call it a day What i enjoy doing why should i give away And i hope to be rhyming on the day i do die If i did tell you different i would be telling you a lie.' I share these sentiments, the joy of writing pages of stuff, told by family to give writing away, the hopes to be writing on curtain fall day, and in my head if hand cannot move and eyes cannot see, if you see be smiling and pleased, be sure a poem enters exits my thoughts with exciting thrilling ease

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