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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory  1/30/2015 1:53:02 AM
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'Researcher of poetry'

‘Researcher of poetry’

To be or not to be that is the question
Am I a word junkie or a poetry equestrian?
Riding a rhyme changing the line
To make it look like it was mine

The good Lawrence Durrell was a wordy man
Little about poetry he did understand
Till a woman led him to the Promised Land
Now he’s one of the best in the land

Barrington had a duck-billed Platypus at trinity
With whom he shared a remarkable affinity
The Platypus made Barrington nervous
When he suggested they join the Diplomatic Service

John’s padre was an old sky pilot
Until they clipped his wings
He sits in his garden: writing poetry
Playing guitar, composing songs which he sings

Noel proved he was no coward
He proved he was the brave one
With mad dogs and Englishmen
He went out in the midday sun

Cole Porter said let’s do it let’s fall in love
I said Cole you have had to much porter
I really don’t fancy you, but, if you can wait
To get drunk: I might like a little porter

I did do some research to come up with this prose
I know you’re not happy, and what’s getting up your nose
I am not a researcher I will tell you for free
I may just be a thief of other people’s poetry

Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Santa Is Just An Old Wives Tale'

I’m not the simpleton you think I am
I’m not the buffoon you’d like me to be
You keep me in a blind corner, whilst whispering away
However much kept in the dark, I learned to see

My dislike of your secretive ways
Your treating me like a court jester
Made me a very bitter person
Who just sat and learned to fester

You could have told me the truth
I learnt it anyway, and took it without pause
Now it’s you who look like fools
I know now, there’s no Santa Claus

You always called me your little man
Which made me want to throw up
Look in the mirror, you’re aging parents
Despite your lies, I did grow up

Santa is an old wives tale
They say he could be St. Nicholas
He made parents lie to their kids
But he must really be old Nick, alas
Michael Micmac Mccrory



'She watched me on the telly'

‘She watched me on the telly’

She watched me on the telly
But I’m not of great renown
Don’t blink or you’ll miss me
In the video of Shane McGowan

Mammy mammy mammy
Uncle Mick’s on the box
It’s called ‘If I should fall from grace’
Mick looks like an old grey fox

Uncle Mick’s in his second home
Down there in his local pub
Standing at the bar
With the usual pint at his gob

Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Small town boy'

‘Small town boy’

I went away to stay away
But wherever I went
It was just like home

So I came back
I am here to stay
A small town boy

Michael Micmac Mccrory
Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory