To The Poets Poem by Kevin Hulme

There are those people who from time to time,
Pour all their feelings into Rhyme.
They tell all and Sundry about the day they've had,
Like If it turned out quite good or damn awful bad.
They'll lay it all out through the cost of a pen,
It can make you have doubts about the Marbles of Men.
For ‘To Wander lonely as a Cloud',
I'd bet his parents weren't very proud.
And for ‘Being Compared to a Summer's day',
Could he not earn his bread another way.
Burns even composed a verse to a Mouse,
Instead of laying traps around his Plague ridden house.
Some tell of Love and all it's joys,
When they should all be out carousing with the boys.
John Wilmot penned some filthy mush,
The like of which would make a Docker blush.
And those that write of the ‘Horrors of War',
What do they think the 10 o'clock News is for.
And don't get me started on Nonsense Verse,
For it's enough to make a Blood Monitor burst.
So call your Doctor very soon,
If you see a Cow jump over the Moon.
Now the Bronte Girls it has been said,
Were Waxing Lyrical not long out of bed.
And Elizabeth the First did write the odd poem,
So it's no surprise she was sleeping alone.
So enough of it all I'll say once again,
It's getting to much and there's nothing to gain.
As personally myself I would consider it a crime,
If I ever put these feelings onto pages in Rhyme.