One day, in a moment sublime
I started devoting my time
while on my way home, to writing a poem
but I couldn’t come up with a rhyme.
My lines were a little too dense
my verse a little too tense.
I dabbled in wit and some of it fit
but none of it made any sense.
I added and padded whatever it took
to give my creation the grandiose look
of elegant prose but all that arose
were measures of rambling gobbledygook.
Week upon week I continued the quest.
A daunting challenge! Who would have guessed?
But the going got rough and enough was enough.
I reluctantly gave it a rest.
Inhibited by inspirational drought
poetic potential a serious doubt
I swallowed my pride, looked deep inside
and finally figured it out.
If crafting verse is an art
then ideas must flow from the heart
born of talent and fashion and patience and passion
and clearly I’m just not that smart :-(
So now I’m allowing each day
to evolve in a lyrical way.
And my urge to create will just have to wait.
But … who needs a silly rhyme, anyway?