a poem by Leif Phillips, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

I don’t want to be a rock star
nor a rocket scientist no
aint into selling grams of blow
not even driving a real fast car
what I love to do is poetry
morning, day and excellent night
under artificial and natural light
giving that sense of being free
I love the ways words evolve into
sentence rhyme and song
while if the thing comes out wrong
it doesn’t mean that themes untrue
cos maybe I fell asleep at the table
and woke up stoking a fable
its eyes brimming from the floor
the kitchen screams for more
more more more it cries
the oven blew its final fuse and dies
the whole house joins in the chorus
haven’t ya got no more words for us
the roof is going off its nut
threatening me with a head-butt!
oh how I love poetry and verse
as loves go there could be worse
like my mate called Narcissus
who made his image his missus
or my other mate called Nooky
yeah I guess there’s nothing wrong with that.

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