89. My Wall

The other day a friend asked me why I 'bother' with writing poetry. This is my response. I'll keep the friend's name a mystery.
(But you can view her new kitchen on my Clickpicks page!)


MY WALL.

I've a friend who's embroidery's charming,
Each stitch is a work of perfection,
So she frames the results at enormous expense
And displays them for our close inspection.
But I'm just an amateur poet;
There's nothing to put on a wall.
I might rival Pam Ayres with my verses
But no-one will see them at all.

I've a friend who makes quilts by the dozen,
She spreads them out over her beds,
And we all stand around and admire them,
The pinks and the blues and the reds.
But I'm just an amateur poet,
My poems reside on the shelf.
They are just scraps of paper in boxes,
For no-one to read but myself!

I've a friend who's a wonderful gardener.
Her blooms are a riot in Spring,
And we stand on the lawn in amazement,
Saying 'Oh what a clever old thing!'
But I'm just an amateur poet,
With no chance of taking a bow,
For there's no-one to look at my scribblings,
And no-one is gasping out 'Wow!'

I've a friend who is clever with icing;
Her cakes are confections of bliss.
And we all stand around, looking wide-eyed,
Saying 'How did you ever make this?'
But I'm just an amateur poet
And nothing of mine is on view.
I must hide my light under a bushel.
That's all that a poet can do

Until now...... when I've dived into Blogging!
At last my attempts are on show.
I'm shooting them into the cosmos;
They will blow where the Blogging winds blow.
I may be an amateur poet
But I've found my own outlet at last.
My Blog is a 'wall' I lay claim to,
And I'm nailing my flag to the mast!