A VIAGRA OF WORDS
Posted: Wed Jul 11, 2012 9:00 am
This is an old one that I think might have been on the old sitem but I have been playing around with it a bit
A VIAGRA OF WORDS.
I have oft’ been called curvaceous, and vivacious and loquacious
some people might say flirtatious but with that I don’t agree.
I’ve had men call me voracious I suspect they're rather vacuous
for in food I have no interest, but like Tim Tams with my tea.
Oh ! I find it somewhat thrilling, to discover there are willing
people out there in the suburbs - out in the community.
Who are quite eager to listen and whose smiling faces glisten
with tears of laughter when I read to them my poetry.
Me? Well I don't see the humour, but my Mum said that late bloomers
are slow at everything, but I'm not sure what she meant.
But if people like my poems well it makes it worthwhile po’ing
though I have to say right here that humour was not my intent.
.
.
My Mother said her daughter could, she thought, talk underwater.
Well I tried it once and do you know I couldn't make a sound?
And you may think it funny that I tried it in the bathtub
but by trying this experiment I very nearly drowned.
Still I like the thought of wordplay, it's a kind of verbal foreplay,
a prelude to something breathtaking. A Viagra of words
that arise ready for action, and that sure has an attraction
but sometimes they just won’t go away and that I find absurd.
So word smithing is a challenge, one that hard work seems to manage.
The constant edit and polishing makes all the words come right.
But I wish there was an off switch, to shut up this logorrhoea
for the bloody words are running through my head both day and night.
Alcohol won’t fix it, nor will Valium or biscuits.
I’ve tried the deadly treadmill, in the middle of the night.
I am awfully sick of walking, for those voices keep on talking
and they yap and yap and yap so much faster than I can write.
So I need a tape recorder, which will take it down in order
of recital when it's flowing be that in bus, car or train.
For I've noticed people staring, some are laughing others glaring
and I wonder if they wonder if that woman is insane.
So you see there is a problem, one that oft I sit and ponder
for people seem to think you know the poetry you write
is like “Oh my God you're clever” let me tell you that they never
sit up all day long and then again all through the bloody night.
So if you have information and / or knowledge of my problem
wont you share please your solution and thus help to ease my pain.
But be quick dear friends I beg you, before murder I commit
upon myself, causing commitment to the House of the Insane.
Maureen Clifford ©
A VIAGRA OF WORDS.
I have oft’ been called curvaceous, and vivacious and loquacious
some people might say flirtatious but with that I don’t agree.
I’ve had men call me voracious I suspect they're rather vacuous
for in food I have no interest, but like Tim Tams with my tea.
Oh ! I find it somewhat thrilling, to discover there are willing
people out there in the suburbs - out in the community.
Who are quite eager to listen and whose smiling faces glisten
with tears of laughter when I read to them my poetry.
Me? Well I don't see the humour, but my Mum said that late bloomers
are slow at everything, but I'm not sure what she meant.
But if people like my poems well it makes it worthwhile po’ing
though I have to say right here that humour was not my intent.
.
.
My Mother said her daughter could, she thought, talk underwater.
Well I tried it once and do you know I couldn't make a sound?
And you may think it funny that I tried it in the bathtub
but by trying this experiment I very nearly drowned.
Still I like the thought of wordplay, it's a kind of verbal foreplay,
a prelude to something breathtaking. A Viagra of words
that arise ready for action, and that sure has an attraction
but sometimes they just won’t go away and that I find absurd.
So word smithing is a challenge, one that hard work seems to manage.
The constant edit and polishing makes all the words come right.
But I wish there was an off switch, to shut up this logorrhoea
for the bloody words are running through my head both day and night.
Alcohol won’t fix it, nor will Valium or biscuits.
I’ve tried the deadly treadmill, in the middle of the night.
I am awfully sick of walking, for those voices keep on talking
and they yap and yap and yap so much faster than I can write.
So I need a tape recorder, which will take it down in order
of recital when it's flowing be that in bus, car or train.
For I've noticed people staring, some are laughing others glaring
and I wonder if they wonder if that woman is insane.
So you see there is a problem, one that oft I sit and ponder
for people seem to think you know the poetry you write
is like “Oh my God you're clever” let me tell you that they never
sit up all day long and then again all through the bloody night.
So if you have information and / or knowledge of my problem
wont you share please your solution and thus help to ease my pain.
But be quick dear friends I beg you, before murder I commit
upon myself, causing commitment to the House of the Insane.
Maureen Clifford ©
