ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

I reckon it’s time I was leaving the show.
I reckon it’s time, to just log off and go.
It’s taking up too many hours you see;
hours that I used to save up just for me;

hours that I’d spend doing nothing at all,
bored out of mind, going right up the wall,
planning a project I knew in my heart
I’d never get round to. I never would start.

It seems every night now I stay up too late,
get to bed - the steed’s bolted - maybe next week old mate.
I’ve forgotten the sweet talk the pet names the cuddle.
Now it’s staring at lap top with mind in a muddle.

Time was that I’d sit and think hard about mowing
the grass but renege and just watch it keep growing.
No way was I searching for bright inspiration.
Life in the slow lane’s my heart’s dedication.

What’s happening to me? Why these peaks I must climb
in a back packing, trekking, safari through rhyme.
At one point in my life there were afternoon naps,
that allowed for an hour or three to elapse.

Now my time table’s stuffed. No more do I cook.
Can’t remember the last time I baited a hook.
I’m at odds with the neighbours. No time for a beer.
They don’t understand the new rules around here.

And my wife, stone the crows, wants to share a white wine
when I’m trying to write that penultimate line.
It’s not right. It’s not fair. My days were complete.
Didn’t care not to have all the world at my feet.

Never jealous; no envy of other’s successes,
so why am I feeling these poetic stresses.
Why am I now counting each single syllable,
as if to some client my writing was billable.

I know who’s to blame for this game I can’t win.
There’s a bevy of poets who roped me write in.
Now my freedom’s assigned. It’s a thing of the past
as an aa bb or so I’ve been cast.

I’m addicted. No suggestion of rehab for me.
I’m lost in the ways of rhymed verse and free.
Nothing else for me now. No free will left at all,
But to wait on the muse at her sweet beck and call.

But sometimes I still just say "Bugger it all."

It's a phase Wazza, you'll get over it. Maybe a little time management is in order - or you could always delegate!

Warren, you're on the hook now...your goose is cooked! (Ever caught a goose on a hook?)

"syllable" and billable"...love it!

Cheers
David

You'll know that it's bad when each sentence you speak has a rhyme quite unplanned and it gets worse each week

Loved it Wazza, It has definitely changed your world mate! now if only others took the bait.....

Ron

Thanks Ron, Maureen, David, and Heather. Looks like once bitten t̶w̶i̶c̶e̶ ̶s̶h̶y̶ no longer shy.

It is a disease Wazza but a nice one. Wait until the performance bug gets ya then you are doomed.


But But But ya still have to make time for the things that matter.

remember every day that you go fishing you get another added on at the end mate.

People say to me Oh your Bob Pacey the poetry bloke ?

And I reply no I'm Bob Pacey and I also write poetry.

Cheers Mate.

Goodonya Wazza, it's working. Your stuff's getting better all the time.

Cheers, Jeff

Mmm like a second slice of home made chocolate cake Matt.
Wazza