Wednesday, November 13, 2024

Poetry Thursday 66 - Mackem and me

 The offering is a mixture but as has been said in the past 'its all about me' 




Out of Sorts

 

What’s the matter pet?

Tha disint look ower grand,

a face like a hen’s backside on a windy day,

summat happened that wasn’t planned?

 

What’s the matter pet?

yer look out of sorts,

lost a pund and fund sixpence,

try to shake off negative thoughts.

 

What’s the matter pet?

Yer could trip ower that bottom lip,

thes plenty mair pebbles on the beach,

chin up, get a grip. 

© David L Atkinson November 2024





















What did I do?

 

Apparently, there can be nothing worse,

bad enough to induce a curse,

than for all publishers in the universe,

to not consider Atkinson’s lyrical verse.

 

Crossed the path of a black cat,

maybe something even worse than that,

but whatever, published is not where it's at,

for the work created in my flat.

 

So using my self-reliance,

against publishers with defiance,

publishing’s no mystical science,

three books have made an Amazon appearance.  

© David L Atkinson November 2024


God Bless 


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