‘National Poetry Day,’ they said.

     This surely can’t be right.

For me, a writer of these poems,

      I write all day and night.

 

‘She’s poetry mad,’ is what they say

     When I’m not there to hear.

Perhaps they’re right, I sometimes think,

     And this is what I fear.

 

I’ll find some other things to do

     To fill my waking hours.

I’ll make some cakes, then clean the house

     And perhaps I’ll grow some flowers.

 

So now I’ll go and make my cakes.

    It’s no more poems for you,

And, with that lovely thought in mind,

     I’ll wish you all adieu.

 

But oh, and oh, and oh oh oh - - 

    Just poetry for ONE DAY?

I can’t believe that this is true.

    ‘This can’t be right,’ I say.

 

So I’m flying off tomorrow morn,

     Off to the USA –

Where I will find a Poetry Month –

      Not a measly POETRY DAY!!!

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Copyright on all my poems

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