A Conversation for Poetry
Poetry
Sneaky Started conversation Jun 27, 2001
It is nice to find, as I unwind,
A page or two of po et tree,
But then again, I'm not quite sane,
And am dying now of verbal dysentry.
My thoughts are just my own and I
Cannot abide, with fools or gold
For I am here, for all the world to see
Watching heaven being sold.
The estate agents, are demonic nasties
Who have eaten more than their share
Of pies and pasties
And now as this poetic trail goes cold
I bid you good fortune, and not fools gold.
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