written tonight when PF went off and I thought I had again lost all I had penned by my own fault.

Poets Lament.

There is no point in any rhyme
that carelessness sees fit to leave behind.
A long abandoned, worn out wish
is only good wrapped round some chips and fish.

So leave my tattered verses in the bin.
Congealed in fat as I was wrapped in sin
for having any pride that I’d begin
to get my words beneath the worlds thick skin.

©kath otoole 30/08/2010.

S. E. Johnson
A very delightful write and a demonstration of classic wit!

wojja fink
brilliant ending, tis thick indeed, never seen it bleed...