Of poetry this is not,

Most write of love,

Sometimes I write of pot,

But tonight I write of sitting on a different pot…J

Need a big roll,

Right next to the bowl,

Of my bowels I can’t control,

I swear I think I am giving birth to a foal…J

Must have been that big fat steak,

B-B-Q sauce and hot wings on the side,

Topped off with a chocolate on chocolate cake,

I may have to stay in this room all night,

Thankful am I for the exhaust fan,

Bet though people can smell it worldwide…J

© ed ~ 10/10/06