bob

[badcompany]

Bob wanted to write a poem
As long as long can be,
To break the world record
For length of poetry.
He built sentences all day
And dreamt of words at night,
For the most fantastic poem
Bob did long to write.
And he'd tell to all his friends
The words he'd made that day,
"What a clever chap is Bob,"
Those friends were bound to say.
He wrote of far off lands
And sailors lost at sea,
The people all would cry,
"Tell us again how it can be!"
But he never once went back
Chosing instead to write more,
A million different adventures
Just outside the door.
He described love and hate,
Rebellion, peace and war,
It was the kind of poem
You'd think would never bore.
It had darkness, it had light
And dreams beyond compare,
The poem was Bob's soul,
His hope and his despair.
But the other poets mocked him,
Cursed his meter and his rhyme,
"You make mockery of poetry
And your diction is a crime."
So Bob hid himself away
No longer seeking fortune or fame,
But he continued with his poem
Told to anyone who came.
The children flocked for miles
Just to hear the words Bob wrote,
He came higher than J.K. Rowling
In their favourite authors vote.
The adults often called in too
Though his words soon lost their appeal,
Life has more exciting things than poetry
So they searched for experiences more real.
Bob's visitors slowly trailled away
Until he was almost on his own,
But he was still determined
To finish the world's longest poem.
Does such a quest ever have an end?
Well it came the day Bob died,
For seventy long years
That poem had been his pride.
At one hundred and one years old
He had finally passed away
And a whisper

[badcompany]

bob