ramblings and things

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The Poet's Convention

(with apologies to those who feel affronted, but why do so many poets seem to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders)

sitting by the sea shore hiding from my peers
thinking why the dizzy I hell did I come here
I averted my eyes as a pair of large sad feet
made their way towards my nearly empty seat.
I'm a fellow poet the man said
and my heart filled with dread
I'll be civil to him – I'll really try
or I may punch his silly eye
poets are such miserable people on the whole
who seem to suffer  sickness of the soul
seeming to wallow in trouble and strife
seldom appreciating the joys of life.
if they aren't suffering the pains of lost love
they're in mortal dread of a being above
who,  according to them, seems a very odd
uncaring miserable and vindictive old sod
so I said oh aye ready to turn and run
then stopped as he said ain't life fun
I've heard you write a lot like me
like to let your thoughts roam free
these miserable b's here
seem to walk about in fear
I think laughter has been banned
in their grey and fearsome land
lets slip away we wont be missed
fancy getting brahms and liszt
then we can have a proper go
sorting out this world of woe
 merciful heavens not to be bored
oh joy of joy – my spirit soared
there's no thought so full of cheer
as that inspired by yards of beer
I think  what we said maybe
too many could hear
neither of us  been invited
back again  this year
to the poets convention, that annual affair
of outpourings of fear, lost love and despair

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The Poet`s Convention