‘Twas twirly on a Sunday morn
Nonsensical nonsenses was born
In triolettuce of eight, six, four
‘Bout cats and mats and something more
My gnat-sized brain was addled, yet
My fingers flew and I was set
To pen this verse in competition
They writing of their own volition
The race is on to post it first
Yet copy, paste is proving cursed
My tablet seems to work much better
Than his, he’s struggling with his letters
It looks like I might win this game
Which will be such a crying shame
For his was typpened so much faster
Now it looks like he’ll be laster
.
To see the masterpiece from which this poem was spawned, see here
NONSENSE POETRY IN 8-6-4
Jane Sandford 
You beated me; possibly bested me and mine; let the discerning audience decide – through the medium of spoon-bending!!! G;) x
Reblogged this on Graeme Sandford and commented:
This was inspired by me and my inability to post my nonsense poem in a trice! Jane used my talent (singular) to fuel her early Sunday Poetry (Twirly) and create this masterpiece. Please ‘like’ it and comment ‘Cheers!’ It will make her even happier. Thank you G:)