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The Planets
I'm waiting for the Sun to shine,
But it won't wait for me,
I'm either still asleep in bed,
Or busy having tea.
It really isn't very fair,
In fact, it's rather dour,
If it was more reliable,
We'd all use Solar power.
The Moon is not much better,
It just comes out at night,
When most of us are sleeping,
I'm sure that can't be right.
Some nights it is waxing,
And others on the wane,
The poor old Wolves just howl at it,
It drives them quite insane.
As for the Stars, I'm quite nonplussed,
What benefit are they?
They sit all night and twinkle,
And then they go away.
Poets use them in their verse,
Young Lovers gaze in awe,
I cannot see the point of it,
If that is all they're for.
And what about this Earth of ours?
It's Mountains and it's Trees?
Two thirds of it is covered,
By it's Oceans and it's Seas.
The rest of it is all used up,
With Towns and Motorways,
Some of us will have to leave,
I'm counting down the days.
So I have built a Rocket,
Which will take me off to Mars,
I've left no space for Bureaucrats,
And even less for Cars.
I'll make my own Utopia,
Without the Sun and Moon,
I've sent off for a route map,
Which, with luck, will be here soon!
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
poem
by
Owain Glyn
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