A bad GBR poem (because I felt bad)



Me, on my holi-bobs
(which is what Mrs GBR insists on calling holidays)

I’ve seen you, on a Sunday morn,

Rise from your slumber sleepy eyed,

Sit at your computer screen, forlorn,

Shocked GBR has not yet arrived.

It’s all my fault, I take the blame,

Some Sunday’s I am late to rise,

Only playing the ole blogging game

Once the sleep has cleared from both my eyes.

I don’t apologize one jot,

I do this almost every week,

Since the end of 2010, I’ve brought

500 weekly words of critique.

But I do feel bad when I miss

A Sunday morning entirely,

I feel I should put in extra Swiss,

Just to prove I like you, (though shyly).

This weekend I’m on holiday,

And a rare blogless Sunday looms,

So I thought I’d write a poem (hooray),

For you, my friends, to swiftly consume.

The only problem that I faced,

Google’s rhyming dictionary

Seemed to have annoyingly misplaced,

Good words to rhyme with dictionary.