Last night i wen to bed
And tossed and turned my head
I couldnt get to sleep
Although I did the usual things
Which internet advice now brings
Like having sex and counting sheep.
Creaking radiators, spiders on the walls
It's an omen, my computer calls
I thought it best to not waste time
On useles things, although they please
In stead I rose and washed soem clothes
And learned six words of Japanese
You'd think that some kind deity
Would give me a reward
Perhaps I'll get it later
If St Peter keeps a record
I suppose I''ll have to wait
Until I get to heaven
TodayI woke up late
Athough my sleeping hours hit seven
It really isn't good to wake
At nine, ten or eleven
Now I'm feeling so tired
That I cannot cook an egg
Though I'm very pleased to say
I can still stand on one leg
Although I'm doing some things wrong
I'm getting others right
Although my morning after poem
Has intonation that's erratic
I've piled on lots of rhymes
Built like a wall of wonky bricks
Google sends readers at all hours
To shake their heads at me
There will always be a market
For a poem, if it's free
And if by midnight tonight
I duly go to bed
I've near twenty-five good years
Until I reach a hundred!
-ends-
copyright Angela Lansbury Tuesday 13th 2024
i changed cannot boil an egg to cannot cook an egg because I had a picture of another type of egg. I lost the shock value of not even being abe to do the simplest kinds of egg. But I gained Cannot cook which is alliterative.
No comments:
Post a Comment