A Poem about....The Poem!
by Pauly "Poet" Butlin
It was the night before the deadline as I entered my home,
No beer to be found and no-one to phone.
I was still wide awake after nine hours of slaving.
With the wages they pay me there's never much saving
So I turned on the computer to surf on the net,
I thought I'd check on my emails and what did I get?
There is a message from Ronnie in a sarcastic tone
Saying to bash out a poem the minute I get home.
Twelve hours I have been granted this ode to compose,
I had won a competition I hadn't entered, why was it me
she had chose?
Was it because of Ross who always contributes to these pages?
As he has a habit of volunteering me at various stages.
If him being my boss at the fire station isn't enough,
He has given me that pineapple again, the end that is rough.
The email did state I must write poems for a year,
It was about now, as I read further, That I could murder
a beer.
Ronnie could have been more specific with a subject to write on,
Because at one in the morning, creativity is a bit light-on.
So what is this simple fireman with a wife and two kids,
Going to write about so the readers don't close their eyelids.
I figure I'll just wing-it with whatever enters my head,
So it's amazing I haven't written a poem about going to bed.I
If anyone has a topic about which they would like me to write,
Im open to suggestions and it would seem, open all night.
Pauly will not make this month's poem an eighteen page saga,
Because the deadline is near and I have no lager.
I promise I get better as we progress through the year,
But just remember that for no money you don't get Shakespeare!