ANON
I once read a poem,From someone called anon.
Thought he'd wait for me to read it,
But when I looked he'd gone.
Then I met a young lady,
Her features where rather plain.
When I asked her if she new anon,
She replied, yes infact she held his name.
She gave me a brown paper parcel,
All tied with little pieces of string.
All sellotaped together,
Inside must be many splendid things.
I looked at the poem's inside,
All written by someone called anon.
When I looked to ask her who he was,
I found that she had gone.
So I decided to gather up the poem's,
Even though they will never no it.
I'll put them in a little book,
Then call it, The unknown poet.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
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Written on 2024-11-29 at 01:02
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