It’s midnight and I really must stop here,
But thirteen lines remain. Tonight I went
To poetry group followed by usual beer:
Two pints of Wobbly Bob and two hours spent
In good company. I gave out the scent
That was pursued by hounds in female form.
The chase was fun, but I’m not sure it meant
Much. Back for coffee, now gone back to norm.
Now what can I say? Turn on the brainstorm
Until the foggy night of beer is clear
And some coherent rhymed messages sent
In the traditional sonnetary form.
Phil’s coming round at 8 to fix my queer
Freeview reception, so on sleep I’m bent.
Wed 23 Jan 2008
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