Poets are authors of created words,
some might as well be on
the wings of birds.
Each day is a report,
it's addictive as a fun to do sport.
My thing is life in a nutshell,
at times these words take me
to heaven and hell.
Many times I feel like chit,
but in my poetry I refuse to admit.
Eventually out pops the cat,
even when there's no prowling rat.
Ratta tat tat,
the poet hits the mat.
I'll be writing when I'm down,
trying to word myself up and around.
Jolly Good was part of my show,
little did anyone know,
Sad Mack was the real me,
trying to word up a Jolly spree.
It's good to be Jolly up,
not always down corrupt.
I'm just one poet,
by now all should know it.
I really don't try to charm,
nor do I care to really harm.
I got tricked into this poetic window,
whatever you think of my agenda.
It's too late to delete,
or give up and retreat.
Whatever!
I love being a poet.
One
So if only for ourselves,
Lets go out and get bent...E
Chrissy