Lost in Poetry

I've larked about with Larkin, 

faffed about with Frost, 

The winding road that I once took, 

has become the way I've lost.

Burnside at my bedside, 

and also Douglas Dunn, 

I've dallied on with Dylan, 

this poetry is such fun.

I think I'm lost in poetry, 

the words have drawn me in, 

I'd like to stay in Poetryland, 

to leave would be a sin.

Everybody here's so nice

they all adore my writing, 

I think I'll stay another day, 

the prospect is inviting.

Maybe it isn't what it seems, 

there's just a trace of doubt,

If I wrote or uttered a bad word, 

they'd likely chuck me out!