Doing As I Am Told

They tell me I was a most annoying child, not good looking like everyone else's son - ugh! nor bright as a button, but the 'thick' one. One of those who just tried to help both teachers and pupils, to do things the easy way, or so brainless or bored not to do anything anyway, anything at all. After all one cannot be criticised then? - you bet! So, here am I and I try to write a poem on my faithful laptop so that my mediocre ideas (that good?) but crystal clear English (yeah right!) before accessing the best poets' website I have come across - and then I - UR!!!- run out of time blaming my baby boomer typing mis-skills and you dear web bosses that are only doing your best with a Peter pest, trying to help, trying to do better so his better becomes his best. Let's hope that when my poem goes online my gentle critics will see I aspire to play poetry like cricket - damn I was absolutely crap at playing the the poetry of leather upon willow so unlike that New Yorker Joseph O'Neill, who probably bowls a Yorker too, with his trinity of Irishnes, Dutchness and Americanism souping up as 'NETHERLAND' please intercede for me to type faster or have more time to jot down these musings as I know you do LOL at my poetry. Please, please be patient and so gentle, gentle my esteemed fellowe poets in this our republic of letters by stirring it hot and meaty fit for any rhyme royal.