(28.06.1952 / Coventry)

Censored

I'm stretching it a bit
When I write my nonsense wit
And I write as I enjoy it
Never seeking to destroy it
The words flow as a stream
And sometimes are extreme
I have held them in a dream
Until it's not all that it seems
So, in all my many rhymes
I slip up from time to time
And my poems get censored by the hunter

by Phil Soar

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