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Poem

When I can't find my pen it  
Becomes a pestering particular 
Problematic  position of such 
Preposterous proportions 
I'm  liable to  search the deepest 
End of the  lake in search  of this
lost treasure.

When  I  can't find my pen at times
I pretend to pretend that I have 
Another pen and so I start to write 
But it hardly clears the lines of
Pages so I try and compromise 
And compensate carrying 
Constipated catastrophes pass
The lines of Poetic cause. I had
Not ever imagined it would be so
Potently painful.  Without any pleasure 
At all.  Each time I think I have a line
I loose it in desperate  despair.  I try
To calm myself  by writing haikus
But it's no use  i must find my pen 
To write with fanatical  flame of
Flare.  If I ever find my pen  again 
I would keep it close fastened to
My lapel,  and who makes jest of
This seriousness.  It is of dangerous 
Diabolical diligent disastrous 
Disheartening disruptive 
Obliviousness.  No doubt I'm  dying 
I feel my heart  palpitating as I
Concoct my next move.

Ooh  ooh here I have found my
Dearest pen  underneath my
Desk.  I generously fill this empty 
Page with meaningful thoughtful 
Stanzas of words verbs adjectives 
And adverbs I am suspended in the
Air.  Without my pen I was nothing but
A senseless bore and look at me here
I am in my new found  
IMMEASURABLE  condition of sheer
Grace saving face  of good faith
Look at me now with my
Alliteration  equipping lines with
Words I thought I'd  never write 
Again.  Look at me now

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