Quitting is not in my make-up
It’s not something I do
I’ll give my brain a big shake-up
To find those new rhymes past due
I no longer write poems easily
Particularly the kind that last
Dismayed, I admit, most queasily
My rhyming days seem long past
Perhaps my few fans won’t give a whit
After all, a Shakespeare I’m not
Ogden Nash had such wry wit
It’s his wit that I’ve not got
And when it comes to Mr. Gilbert
Of Savoyard fame
I’d be nutty as a filbert
To assume I could play in his game
It feels like a poets curse
This rhyming disappearance
Not able to create a verse
With any rhyming coherence
Quitting is not in my make-up
It’s not something I do
I’ll give my brain a big shake-up
To find those new rhymes past due
Many could relate to your tjoughts including me, thanks for sharing. A 10.
I know that feeling so well. It's so frustrating, and it causes an inner fear that the brain will block any future attempts. Makes one shudder! ! ! ! ! Great write. Lovely work, Love Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your full house trumps my lowly pair For rhyme there are few could compare This curse a bluff I do declare I remain unmoved by your poker stare