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The Insomniac Poet
My name is Raftery the Poet
I pen the odd poem or two
Usually well late in the evening
When there isn’t much else to do
When many things are shutting down
The world is theoretically calmer
Channel Five has slipped into thong-drive
Or so-called erotic drama
Foxes prowl through the gardens
Apparently not doing much harm
The roads have gone very quiet
Apart from the odd car alarm
I’d much rather spend my time sleeping
Than scribbling this endless verse
But sometimes the demon is with you
Insomnia can be a curse
So think of the poor, dismal poet
As you slumber the darkness away
Sometimes at his desk still musing
As night-time twists into day
Richard Raftery
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The unusual suspect
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