From Bad to Verse

From Bad to Verse

The poet cried, “It cannot work!”
And put away the verse.
It started out okay at first
But then it got much worse.

The meter, for example, was
Distinctly going wrong.
Initially it read okay,
But then some lines ran really quite far too long.

The words, it seemed, had also failed
To flow upon the page,
He grasped for synonyms but missed
And chose bad words in anger.

He’d written sonnets by the score
And couplets two by two.
An epic ode, some limericks,
But now his violets were blue.

Why was he just blanking out
In this entire season?
“It’s fate,” he told himself in shame,
There was no rhymer reason.
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