Here, take one of these,
Once a day, every day of the week,
Till you fall to your knees,
Type away typos,
Till you loosen your keys,
Click save when your halfway done,
So its easy to breathe,
Soul into memory,
With an apparent ease,
A poetry pill, to swallow,
If you do, or don't please.
A poem a day,
keeps the dullness at bay.
A writer who's triter,
A Poet who's slow, its,
harder to look,
At the titles/recitals contained in a book.
I look at 'My boys' on the shelf,
Herbet and all the poets call out,
Physician, Heal thyself.
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The Cushion of The Years (Shield against Apollyon)
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