Let us rhyme, just for a time..

Well, well, what have we here?
Has there ever been such a sight to fear?
Quick, run for your lives,
Hide your children, your wives,
For the beast has arrived,
Menfolk, sharpen your knives

I like rhyming. But that doesn’t make me a big fan of rhyming poetry. Oh no. There are a few rhymers that I enjoy.. Michael Rosen and Roger McGough are the first two who spring to mind (and they are the first two poets I ever read, funnily enough), but I can’t stand needless rhyming. You know, the type they do in pop songs and the like, what I call ‘school-boy’ writing.

I like making up quick, silly rhymes in my head though. And then trying to get them written down as quickly as possible. There is a stack of them, written on scraps of paper, old envelopes, new envelopes, etc..

I’m not a hoarder, oh no, not me
It’s only stuff that you can see
I just don’t like to throw away
Things I can use another day

Yes, a chatterbox can be shy..

Upon five minutes of having met me for the first time, you reckon you’ve got me pegged. I want to be the centre of attention, I want mine to be the only voice heard, I’m not interested in anything anybody else has to say.

Yep, I’m pretty sure that is how I would see me too, if I were looking from the outside. (And believe me, I’ve wished many a time to be on the outside of me!)

The truth is so very far away from what you are seeing (and hearing). What you don’t realise is that ‘I’ am sat at the back of my head, begging myself to shut up, wishing so hard that I had a needle and thread to stitch my mouth together. (Although, to be honest, I doubt that would stop me.) I don’t want to tell you every aspect of my life, or what I think about the whole universe, life, death and all which lies between, beneath, over and under! I want to be sat in the corner, or better still, at home. I want to be a million miles away from it all.