Monday, 23 September 2013

Just Nonsense


My poetic tire was hissing
There was no more air inside
I knew something was missing
I thought my brain was fried.

My wheels were turning slower
There was little oomph or speed
I must man that pump with power
Or hire myself a steed!

My zest for verse is getting rough
I can feel it shutting down
If I don't get off my old fat duff
Those faculties will drown.

I've gone to prose and story
That's not a problem yet
But verse in all its glory
Is a thrill I can't forget.

So bear with me in patience
While I pump air into those tires
 I will regain my licence
Before my term expires.

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