Poetry seems a cemetery
Where people bury grief.
The act of putting it in verse
Perhaps brings them relief.
It seems a good place to enshrine
The contents of one's heart;
And here replace one's tears with words
And inner gloom impart.
Readers, enter bravely
When you join a writing group.
The poetry section, I'm afraid,
Will make your spirits droop.
Your happy day will melt like snow
By reading such sad words –
And to entertain oneself this way
Must surely be absurd!
Your cholesterol will rise and rise!
We'll hear your heartfelt cries -
But come, turn that computer off
And wipe your streaming eyes.
It’s POETRY, my poor dear friend,
Designed to tear your heart
But not all poems will make you cry –
And here’s mine for a start . . . . . .
Google Josie's Poems
Copyright on all my poems