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Christmas Cracker
O K - so its Christmas - (A weary Hooray)
And I'm trying to write some verse for Christmas day.
I made a good start , and then fell on my ass,
When my muse upped and left me. HOW COULD SHE!! HOW CRASS!!
She said she got no thanks for all that she'd done;
I told her to get her tanks offa my lawn!
I laughed till I cried at her hectoring tone,
But miss her remarks now I'm left on my own.
The last words she spoke, before she flew away,
Were " If you ask me nicely, right now, then I'll stay."
I'd heard these pathetic lines often before,
When in a bad mood I would show her the door!
So here I am, Christmas day, sitting alone,
Regretting my temper,still hoping she'll phone.
I hear my door open - feel my spirits lift....
But its just nosey Santa wondering why I've no gifts
About This Poem
Style/Type: Structured: Western
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Tam the Chanter
12 years 10 months ago
You see right through me ,
You see right through me , Lonnie, I strained too much for a rhyme in this one.
Thanks for the honesty, I really value it
weirdelf
12 years 10 months ago
The bitch! She clearly left you
My muse is a slut, she sees other poets and visits me occasionally.
I'm considering the radical idea of writing my own fucking poetry and fuck the bitches.
Tam the Chanter
12 years 10 months ago
Muses
I wish she would visit me occasionally, I wouldn't tell
Ian