Blogging

When I was little
My mother bought
A pressure cooker

It took a long time to boil
When the valve at the top
Screamed with steam
Like a train in the kitchen
She knocked it off
With a slap

If she got it just right
It chugged along nicely
With just the occasional spurt
And the pot roast was just right

There were all sort of plans
For meals in one pan
But they fizzled out

I wonder
About blogging
'n poetry 'n all that