On the Doleful Prospect of Devoting An Ode To a Screwdriver

Vague words lead poets to heady heights far yonder If we, like Wordsworth, seek a path to’ wander.’ But words there are whose power is less prolific, Dwindling fast the more they are specific. Sententious and meaningful are rhymes Which great poets have utilized at times as when a line whose somber end is ‘womb’ finds in the next one that ends with ‘tomb.’ Or when a line that sadly ends with ‘death’ Is cheered next line with ‘heaven’s living breath.’ Poetry, they claim, is vast and universal, But entry to it so often meets reversal. Screwdrivers ,it seems, have failed, to join the race What cruel fate has offered them no grace? ‘Appetizer,’ ‘sliver’ and - oh yes- ‘scuba diver’ Bring little help the shunned screwdriver. Can rhyming slang yet save the day? Let’s ask a Cockney on the way. “Sorry, mate, I don’t know neiver.” Envoi If there’s a will, then there’s a way, An optimist will tend to say. Is there answer? No chance ismissed, If we give the ode just one more twist.