BogRhymes

Now two thousand and eight is near past,
A horror of a year, for most.
Do we dare to raise a glass?
For next year, we might be toast!

Today gets my vote,
For best day of the year.
There is so much hope,
So much good cheer.

I’m starting to rust at,
Forty years and one.
I’m asking just what,
Has this man done?

This has powerful lyrics,
When you train your ear.
There are a few gimmicks,
But the quality’s clear.

Infected with something for more than a week,
My head is submerged and my muscles creak.
A wheezy chest and a nasty cough,
Could sleep for days, if I had days off.

So my most viewed poem,
Is all about, something I disdain!
Thanks to the word – Hello,
And a marketing campaign!

Bin all of those sausages!
Throw out all your bacon!
Flying pigs are possible,
In breakfast roll nation.

Days are flying by at a cracking pace,
And it’s probably no bad thing.
Interesting times, they have their place,
A prince in history; now is king.