A Poet's Confession. Comical poem 833 by Angela Lansbury

 

Angela Lansbury performing a poem in August 2026 at the Writer's Summer School, an annual event at the Hayes Conference Centre in Swanwick, England, UK. The book is her latest book, Embarrassing Moments.

Last night I wrote a poem

For all my fellow poets

Who love to write about themselves

And shamelessly, proudly show it

Not satisfied to fill the page

They -  we, want to prance about the stage

Create a world of illusions

About their, our, private delusions

And my dearest friend Christine

Writes of things others haven't seen.

I dream I'll make lots of money

To replace teeth lost to chocolates and honey

I don't write of love, embarrassed

To admit I'm no longer harassed

By men who are well past eighty

Bothered by troubles more weighty

Those growing older still remember

The distant past like glowing embers

Embellished with relish by rhythm and rhyme

Repeated, like a chorus, all the time

And so I must conclude

I don't use words which are rude

I'm sure you appreciate, it's too late,

For that, my dearest fellow, mellow poets.

Last night I wrote a poem

I could write, and talk, all night

I no longer earn a wage

They'll soon make me leave the stage

I'm sure you understand

So please give me a big hand

Please look at my latest book

It costs nothing to look 

And then I shall look at yours

So we'll enjoy mutual applause.

-ends-

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My books on poetry, and quotations, are on Amazon.com and Lulu.com

Birthday Numbers comic poem 398 by Angela Lansbury

Birthday present. Photo by Angela Lansbury.

 When all's said and done 

It isn't much fun

Being aged one

Nor a hundred and one

Can you remember when

You were just ten

Do you think about it

Just now and then?

However, there's plenty

To say about twenty

Twenty-one, life's ahead

Lots of bread, lots of bed

And thirty's not bad

There's more fun to be had

Baby, maybe, even forty

You can be quite naughty

I've seen some at fifty

Still agile and nifty

And if they're not rich

They're expertly thrifty

And as for sixty, and seventy,

I'm sorry to say

As strength fades away

Much to say, do and pray

And when you are eighty

It's your right to retire

But the tax man demands

Work, forms, 'til you expire

Please don't ask me my age

I reached secretive stage

When I don't tell my wage

I've said, done, enough, filling this page.

-ends-

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