POETRY CLUB

I joined, into the valley of death rode the six hundred,
where have you been, lonely as a cloud I wandered,
how is your love - you know she is like a red, red rose,
my kingdom for a horse, just like Richard full of woes.

I came to bury Caeser, not to praise him my friends,
Romans and countrymen, lend me your ears, make amends
for folly . . . . . Stop - don't you have anything of your own?
well. er yes - on modern websites I'm fairly well known.

What for - is it dark, depression, love or obsession,
geographic, telepathic or rather for no rhyme or reason?
Listen, dear boy - you are out of your depth, read Noddy,
then perhaps you may aspire to be a writer like me.

Why should I suffer the outrageous misfortunes of slings and arrows,
why I joined this bloody club - God only really knows.