It's a situation
all too familiar:
sitting at this keyboard
getting sillier and sillier,
descending from Olympus
to a hell of trivia,
fingers wildly itching
for some inspiration,
tapping out some pointless words
in conceited desperation
so I hope you'll weakly smile
and charitably say
'oh it's just a poet who won't shut up
having a bad day'...
...can I join in because I've just watched my muse jump out of the window and hop over a fence? I love this Chrissie
I wrote my limericks tonight as a medical antidote. Thanks for visiting. We need to have a limerick contest, you and I. The winner gets to throw wombat droppings to get square and even. H
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I know. I wrote so much one day about having writers block I got writers cramp. Rusty