Friday, February 12, 2010

Play Becomes Work

You know, doing this used to be so easy.
But since then, my rhymes are more cheesy,
The poetry doesn't flow out as well,
I have to work so hard, as a talentless shell.

Yes, I realize now I have no knack
For writing poetry to put in my sack.
Instead, I must use brute force
To set the words on the right course.

What if the words rebel, you ask me?
Why the words are already free, you see.
They seem to come and go as they please,
All I do is hope for a reprise

Of past good work, as I force my lines,
Which occasionally work... Sometimes.
Here and there a poem is still good.
Here's hoping for another. Knock on wood.

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