Lost for words

Lost for words

Poetry is feeling sorry
         for itself
can hardly speak
         has a sore throat
is shivering
         should be in bed
or wrapped up
         if venturing out
needs to take it easy
         relax
let the cares of the world
         go over its head
the greed and corruption
         the self-serving politics
of trumped up politicians
         the contempt for the truth
and beggar my neighbour

Poetry could do with
         a shot in the arm
a pick-me-up
         a change of air
a dose of the warm south
         and a little love
and a little less talk
         and a lot more sleep

John Lyons

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