101 YEARS OLD AND STILL HAS REASON TO RHYME...

TODAY is National Poetry Day, So let’s have a jolly good time, Declaiming in verse, for better or worse, And some of it may even rhyme. Let’s all have a splendid poetical day, And lift up the national mood, Forget about Corbyn and Johnson and

May, Let’s greet today’s verse with a

rampant hooray! Let no politicians intrude. Today A day full is National of Keats, Poetry Blake Day, or Hardy; Put or fire Shelley, in your belly with Shakespeare Right now! No excuse, don’t be tardy. Today’s the day to enliven your prose, Whether aged (like me) or a stripling, Add metre or rhyme which, as

everyone knows, Is the way to turn words into music

that flows, Like old stirring ballads by Kipling. Today is National Poetry Day, I think that I said that before. Let’s care for our writing and make it

exciting, To leave people asking for more. Just take up some paper and write

words upon it, Like Thomas Grey’s churchyard or

Eliot’s cats, Enliven your life with an ode or a

sonnet, Put on your best clothes with a top hat

or bonnet, And bright trainers, sandals or spats. Today is National Poetry Day, I said it four times and it’s true, A limerick, haiku, whatever you like,

you Should try without further ado. Your poem may be any length you

require, A couplet or epic, you choose, But try to make sure that you always

aspire, To write it with passion, recite it with

fire, Emboldened by love, rage or booze. But if you have no poetic ideas, Just dig out a poetry book, And read out a poem, perhaps one of

Lear’s, (His Akond Of Swat’s worth a look) Or Tennyson’s serious Light Brigade

Charge In the valley of death in Crimea, Or Wordsworth’s fair Westminster

Bridge reportage, Or Ben Jonson’s poem on espionage, Or Longfellow on Paul Revere. Today is National Poetry Day, (Oh dear, I have said it again). So brush up your Browning, No scowling or frowning, And take up your pencil or pen. For poetry verses can clear out your

head, And render your thoughts again clear, So put away prose, take to poems

instead, From breakfast until it is time for your

bed, And if you find poetry’s voice too

austere, Just put it away till the same time next

year.