Jack The Quack

One of my friends recently suggested
I write one called “Jack the Quack”
Who better than the old quacker himself
Who's wheels have left the track

I've never professed to be poet
In the ilk of Browning and Keats
A rebel, a renegade, a enigma of sorts
Marching to a different beat

A bit of a “quacker” I've always been
Take pride in being off beat
Don't have a choice, it's who I am
Travelling down a different street

Always write in the purest of forms
Simple verse most of the time
Since a very young age, always thought
Of poetry as a needing to rhyme

Forever been one to revel in creativity
Searching new vistas each day
It sure turns my crank and floats my boat
Wouldn't be happy any other way

Thank you my friends for the inspiration
To express what makes me tick
We're all cut from the very same cloth
Till we find a pathway that clicks