From the author:

From the Author:

I will not introduce myself.
I will not ask "How do?"
I will not wave, I will not bow,
Or shake a hand with you.

For I am not polite, my friend;
I have no social grace.
Like you, I have no manners,
And I never learned my place.

Instead I'll write a poem
And I'll put myself in verse,
And if you like the sound of me,
Well, THEN we might converse.

So read a line or two of me,
Or don't, if it's a chore,
But since you've read fifteen of me
I bet you'll read one more.

Click here to contact the author
(...or don't...he doesn't really trust emails from children. They can be sticky).

Tuesday, 12 July 2011

My Own Time

I'm sick of meticulous poetry
That's carefully crafted, composed,
Respectably rhythmed and properly rhymed,
Logically structured and tickety-timed,
Where roses and shepherds repose.

No, I'll find my own time,
my own rhythm,
my own rhyme.
Catch the beat.
Watch my feet.
This poem knows;
it sows, it grows
its own kinda rose.