I thought I was talented,
Writing about vampires as much as I did.
In fact, I thought I could write poetry
About anything at all.
(It doesn't even have to rhyme, anymore-
God bless free verse)
But I was wrong.
Because while sitting at my desk,
Searching for inspiration,
My eyes lighted on a stapler.
I tried valiantly,
Hoping for even a verse,
But I found none
Within me.
Staplers are purely practical,
Likely prosaical,
But certainly not at all poetical.
This is a product of the ole'' saying when life gives you lemons (or staplers) ....u know. I still like it. :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
hey, staplers ARE vampires, in disguise... they sit there waiting for the day they can draw your blood, NIP, when you're refilling them...watch out, James...