Poem of a poem

Let me tell you a story, a story spawned by another,

very unlike anything told by a nanny or a mother –

Many and many are secrets that reached me through a friend

Hidden though is one of her that shines through like a gem.

She told me conspirationally that she has had a blog,

and blog has got it all that would help to make it pop.

I told her I too have my own anonymous site.

But tried as I might, no follower seems to be in sight.

Shared she with me what to do, the golden recipe,

“O conanon, stop writing posts that reach past the knees.

Imagine the trouble nosing through a thousand page misery.

Write it short, right the shorts and put them in summary.

“Now get another pen and follow me unlike the others

and step in step behind me away from the gutters.”

I got the glimpse of a multi-colored heaven of short bursts

of humour, daily life, dogs and travellers’ firsts.

Rules are redefined in the space of blogosphere.

Sports and artists un-belong here and cats are rare.

Talk is something people do but shouting is a bane

for those on www that come down as slashing rain.

And that is why I started now a poem that’s about

my little story from a story to get a little crowd,

that praises me, appraises me and positively builds

a confidence in me to be inside the writers guild’s.

The end is near though I can’t bear to make the poem end

but I have nothing more to say or make the story bend.

Yet turn and twist I have to do in order to complete

the paragraph that started I to end the poem sweet.

I would love it if you go "tippy, tap" with your keyboard here :)

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