The letterbox has a mouth.

He confided in me

I’m off now to write a piece of prose

You know I offered, wonders will never cease

Would you agree?


He retorted, there you go again

Allowing your mind to roam

Like the nose on your face it is that plain

From this conversation you will write a rhyming poem


No I answered, would I be so bold

Unless there was a rhyming story to be told

I’m not one to rob your thunder

If it comes to pass you tear it asunder.


I just may do that

A little tit for tat

You conflict with my prose

Ruin at the stroke of a pen my composition

Competition don’t we all thrive on it?

Without it where would we be

Left out on a limb juggling ripening plums maybe?

As this is a family show I am only to keen

Not to venture onto that avenue you are directing me.


Maybe next time who knows?

Have I just got one over on you?

Knocked you for six, out of the ball park

Rhyme or prose there is room for us all

Not always on the same page though

This my boy is an exception.


Where is Solomon when you need him?


Could I really allow you have the last word?

Surely not, that would be absurd

So while I have pen in hand

Allow me tell you where I stand.


Here is the hand of friendship

Grab hold let us together take this trip

Sit at the table of words and as friends compose

A poetic rhythmic piece

Comprising of rhyme and of course prose.

(c) Chris Black. November 2017.