Hidden Talent

I must have a hidden talent,

Everybody’s got one.

Why would all the rest be whizz-kids

If yours truly’s not one?

Maybe I’m a secret artist,

Like a second Dali.

All attempts so far have made me

Look a proper Charlie.

It’s unlikely there’s a dancer

Bursting to get out.

Pretty sure I’d blow a gasket,

Jiggling about.

I could be a great soprano,

But for one small thing:

If I do remember rightly

They know how to sing.

Is my flair more academic?

Somewhat intellectual?

Doubtful, since my power of reasoning

Is so ineffectual.

Should I try my hand at writing?

Other people do it.

But I tried to write this poem

And I clearly blew it.



I wish I had a talent

I wish I had knack

For something really special.

It’s something that I lack.

I’ll never sing an aria,

I’ll never lead a show.

If I began to sing a song

The audience would go.

I’d love to paint a picture

Or carve a bas relief,

But any art I’ve ever tried

Has been beyond belief.

My subjects’ eyes are wonky;

I can’t say that I’m happy.

I’d call myself a Cubist

But I’d say you’d call me crappy.

I tried to learn an instrument;

I started with the cello,

But the noises that I got from it

Harshed everybody’s mellow.

I bought myself a banjo

But no matter how I pluck,

I somehow always manage

To absolutely suck.

I’d love to write a story

That’d just fly off the shelves,

Before you’d bother reading mine

You’d write them for yourselves.

I could always write some poetry

And dabble with some rhyming,

But, sadly, I have poor control

Over my style, my vocabulary and especially my timing!!

I wish I had a talent.

I wish I had a flair.

So many people have them;

It really isn’t fair!

I may not be an superstar

With a talent of my own.

But if there’s one thing that I know

It’s how to have a moan!