Thursday, April 16, 2009


Last nite I just sat here looking at the scene and hoping for some inspiration. Well, as the attached poem will attest, it did'nt come. So I tried something I've only tried once or twice before, just writing a line and hoping for the best allowing thoughts to flow freely. If there was any inspiration to be had it was in the particular rhyme pattern. I had just gone back to a blog I shared last September called Penelope Pickel and I really liked the flow of that meter. From there I determined that I would try my hand at that form again. So I won't bore you anymore with the whole background thing. It's not my best, that's for sure, but it was an experiment.

by Patty Lynn

As I sit here a-staring, at the screen I'm preparing
To write a new poem for you all.
I'm sure it'll be, just fantastic, you'll see,
On my brilliance I'll just have to call.

Do you think this is easy, writing something to please me?
I'm a harsh little critic, it's true.
Must be careful to choose well, my words should be just swell,
I'm writing for me and for you.

An idea, I need one, when it's chosen 'twill be fun
To spin a poetic new tale.
Shall I write 'bout a person, from people we learn some,
Or maybe 'bout a dolphin or whale?

I'm trying so hard to be clever.
Gotta be the best poem that I've ever...
Composed on the spot, with the best that I've got.
It must be my finest endeavor!

Should it be short or long, set to music, a song?
The ideas, they just aren't a-coming.
The harder I try, why this just makes me cry,
Now my fingers are annoyingly strumming.

This is crazy, it's late, it's this dry spell I hate,
Wanting so much to start my composing.
Whether this, whether that, my thoughts are so flat.
What I should be is quietly reposing.

I’ve tried, yes, I have, but this poem is so bad,
Not the masterpiece I was expecting.
So I’ll quit while ahead, ‘twas here I was led,
Guess the best thing’s to stop, I’m suspecting.

Now the moral of my story’s don’t hope to claim glory,
When composing without at least planning.
As you stare at the page, an impossible gauge
For your poem is all set for the banning.

Yes, it’s best to retire with no thoughts that inspire,
Go to bed, get some rest for tomorrow.
Perhaps rested I’ll find, a renewal of mind
That brings triumph and joy ‘stead of sorrow.

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