Where Did My Rhyme Go?
Now a muse can be a lot of help,
Inspiring poems and such;
Vast horizons far and wide,
Explode with just a touch.
And oh the words that flow so free,
Creative beyond belief;
Astounding thoughts a writer pens,
For hours without relief.
But a muse can be so very fickle,
Just visit now and then;
What tricks he plays to lead you on,
And leave you without an end.
Words won't rhyme, thoughts won't flow,
Where did he hide my pen?
He won't be found, he's not around,
I'm going to count to eleven.
Now something wrong, I know it is,
That word just didn't fit;
He stole my rhyme and ran away,
I'm in a pickle I must concede.
Now I admit concede won't rhyme,
But what word am I to use?
I'm a writer, so write I must,
But the ending is on a 'long boat ride on one of those big ships with lots of people.' Muse, where are you????
By CheeseMaker
© 2008 CheeseMaker
(All rights reserved)
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