I am no poet, because people have told me so.
I am no story teller, that at least I know.
I could never be a Novelist because I have no flare
but I have creative writing, and mine is rare.
I'm going down to Epsom on this our Derby day
I've got lots of cash so I expect to make it pay.
I'm going to the bookies ive got a few pounds.
I've put money on the favourite, although it's up in
Oh no not another stain on my carpet so red,
its times like these I wish I was dead.
When I was new I was laid out like a Queen, but
now I am ashamed to be seen.
There was once a butcher who went by the name
of Bill who displayed all his meat on the windowsill.
This was his way of showing his customers, what he had to sell;
yet he never realised it caused such an awful smell.
A part of living is what I am going to write about
and that is why us Mums always shout. When we
come home from work and there's a pile in the sink
but we must get on with it, but at first we think.
What a sad life I lead, stuck here on the wall
with two screws in my guts so that I don't fall.
I am only here to hang a basket, one that is full
of flowers; then to be sprayed with water every
The Inn smelt old as I walked through the door.
The tables were rustic and so was the floor.
I sat by the fire all cold and damp and my feet
were wet and numb with cramp.
I walked into the waiting room and clicked up fifty four
and what came in behind me nearly knocked me to the floor.
A family of three who were the size of a house, and as I looked
up I felt as meek as a mouse.As I took my ticket to have my blood
There is a poet who lives in our modern times, who writes
words of comfort and some of those words just blend into rhymes.
Then there are his verses no taller than elves.The ones that really
can express themselves.These beautiful words that only