I'm a poet, don't you know?
I'm a poet, don't you know?
And I write the words that show
what I think and feel and hate and love and say;
I can't help it, I must write
all the morning, noon and night!
It's a frightful thought--addiction, work not play!
Lord, please help me take a break;
I've been here since eighty-eight
and I haven't had a bite to eat since nine.
Loved ones check out institutions
while I ponder absolutions
as I pull my hair in search of perfect line
breaks.
O, a poet I must be!
There's no other life for me!
No, I don't think I could ever give it up.
When I die, quill in my hand,
lay me down, strike up the band,
then let mourners wake on ink and tasty scup!
July 2000
- Donner's blog
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Love that
Love that line
breaks
gag!
Sweet! / Dunc
What's scup?
Thanks, Dunc. You know me,
Thanks, Dunc. You know me, anything for a cheap laugh. Heh. I didn't make scup up. According to The Official Website of the Massachusetts Department of Fish and Game, the scup, or "porgy," known for its fine flavor and its avaricious pursuit of baited hooks, occurs along the continental shelf of eastern North America. It is most common from Cape Cod to Cape Hatteras, North Carolina.
Donna Smith
I'm a poet don't you know
I love this piece Donner. Have just been reading some of your work. It really stands out and has rythm. It could be a song!
Debs