Is It Too Late To Be Writing Poetry?

I’m tired and I just can’t stop yawning
It’s stupid o’clock in the bloody morning

We will just have to wait and see
If it’s too late to be writing poetry?

I really need some divine intervention
perhaps an elixir of lyrical inspiration

I drifted and snoozed and finally slumped
and only woke when my head got bumped!

Perhaps a surgeon would do instead
To remove this keyboard from my head

The Worlds Gone Digital But My Mum’s Still Analog

We have entered a new age of digital information

That demands our time and unlimited interaction

Our smartphones with all their chirping and squawking

Have us clicking and ticking and tweeting and talking

Our personal information, our words and our thoughts

Are sent through technology as ones and as noughts

And our social calendar is not defined any more

By an impromptu, but analog, knock on the door

The world may had gone and caught the digital bug

But my arms are still analog and my Mum needs a hug