Poetry is good for us,
It makes us happy,
Our babies loved hearing it,
Wrapped in a nappy.
Poetry’s our underwear,
We don’t like to flash:
We know if it gets dirty,
We think it quite rash.
“Poetry should rhyme!”,
“Follow the written-down rules!”
Life doesn’t,
So why bother?
No, that is too cruel.
50.9664140.095913
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Published by Mike Bell Poetry
Mike Bell's expanding collection of poems is his ongoing response to actual moments – conjured memories – and a fearful future.
His ambition is to publish 10,000 poems, and then take a nap.
His writing continues to be reproduced in various formats and journals – he also throws himself out there in occasional readings – open mics and poetry sessions – when his body is willing.
Mike Bell is found working for money as a freelance set designer.
View all posts by Mike Bell Poetry
