So once again my ideas run low.
My reservoir begins to dry.
To poetry I turn for a filler.
Yes, that I will try.
It is not as easy as I could want.
I will never be the next Burns.
Neither Rabbie nor Tommy shall I be.
Do you see what I tried to do there?
I'd hoped it would be cleverer.
Twisting the words sounds so good.
Until it goes to the scrivener.
So why the poems, the rhyme and the scan?
What do I hope to achieve?
Why to fill up a page and from Shazz our great leader.
Not a smack to receive.
She works err so hard along with her team.
While I sit and waffle away.
And all is done with a smile and a grin.
And never for any real pay.
And then there is my reader.
A single, solitary one.
They slog through my wordage so fullsome.
But rarely get a glimmer of fun.
I've waffled about holidays,
About families, letters and Who.
I'm rich with the gibber of beer,
And I'm soon to talk of stew.
My train is soon to be stopping.
My time is nearly up.
To my reader and the Post Team.
I raise this frothing cup.
I thankyou all for your time.
I thankyou all for your sight.
I thankyou all for your patience.
Now I am off for a pint.
Next Time: I'm not lazy, I'm indifferent