Checked my E-mails, same old dull routine,
Then a new missive lights my dull grey screen,
News from a competition entered loooong ago,
Click ‘open’, oh, but don’t get my hopes up though.
I’ve so hoped for the best before,
And I’d be disappointed once more.
Again, rejection, painful but not unexpected,
Again my select name amongst the unselected,
But after a sigh, a roll of the eyes and a rueful smile
I thought I’d read what wonders had topped the pile.
Perhaps, judging by the mood I was in
I shouldn’t judge- but where can I begin?
One thing required in a humourous poem contest
Is content that leaves one laughing, not depressed,
I’ll agree it is the good judges call to be fair, firm and tough
And I’ll allow my work this year- and hers- ain’t good enough.
He sang songs about proper mothers and Rolling Stone covers
And keeping his beautiful woman away from wannabe lovers,
But Ray, lay down the cowboy hat, the eye patch and say ‘see ya later’
To Sylvia’s formidable mother and that bitchy long distance operator,
Put aside those sly wry songs, sung with a knowing wink of the eye,
Hang up your hat, hang up the phone, let it go, it’s time for goodbye.