Confessions of a Lazy Poet (part 2)

 
Weight-watchers take note
I have proof
that writing poems makes you thinner.
 
I have never bought a belt in my life
but today after thirty something poems to date
(shit I've lost count)
I can barely keep these jeans up
which may create some
interesting future material.
 
Not even that naughty pork pie
can cut the mustard right now
as I always seem to have
other more pressing appetite.
 
Finally organized
my notebook in the shower
plastic covered
shiny and new but still unused.
Insurance after the last time
when I took too long to get dry
and lost some lines.

Hope they're still there
inside my head and will one day
find their way out.
 
The trouble is that in constant poet mode
breakfast can get stalled until lunch
which goes on hold until dinner
and finally becomes
another too tired supper of grabbed handfuls
from the back of the fridge
(somewhere I don't like to venture these days)
sack the cleaner.
 
But when I wake at three am.
it wont be that pork pie calling me
you guessed
it'll be more poetry.
 
 
Author's note – I have no real predisposition towards pork pies and deny ever buying one, although its inclusion does seem to add authentic flavor to this offering (more so than a salad sandwich) for some reason. My apologies are extended in advance to any incensed veggies or animal lovers out there, not forgetting the Pork Pie Liberation Front if there is one.