Deer Lord, teech me to write reel good
Sew that my words are understood
And folks apreciate my stuff
About the girls I used to love...
Deer Lord teech me to spell words rite
Sew that they wont give folks a frite
And make them gasp in shock at me
Each time they reed my poetry...
Deer Lord think back on all Ive done
Before the day I found your son
And my hole life began to change
Cos writing rimes is reely strange...
I never wrote like this before
But grant me guydance now for shore
Else Ill just wander like a clowd
Another face within a crowd...
Deer Lord I hope for better things
Just like the angels with their wings
That sore above the hills and dales
Despite the storms... despite the gales...
Ill face my tribbles like a man
And humply do the best I can
Sew one day youll be proud of me
And my fantastic poetry!
Denis Martindale, copyright, May 2014.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem