A Windbag's Warning Poem by Richard Jarboe

Don't get me started
I can talk landscape all night long;
Then I can branch out all day long.
I'm a windbag.

In my brain there are compartments,
I can package history 'til dawn,
Then I cram it inside departments,
Where one could wonder why one were born,
A windbag.

Don't get me started,
About trouble in vain,
When I go heavy windbag,
I go hurricane.

Some words fly around the room,
Like feathers in a pillow fight,
And even if I get real good and drunk,
I can still slur all through the night,
Pay attention! Wake up! !
I'm a windbag.