Wrong Write
It's a Soupy situation,
When inspiration will not come
My mind has gone on vacation
At both the rising and the setting of the sun
I have fallen into the Soup
A peasouper, that's for sure
It's so thick and mushy
I cannot see any more.
I tried to communicate with Shakespeare,
Last night when I went to bed
A voice whispered from afar
You will have to use your initiative
Don't you know the Bard is DEAD!
Dead! how dare he
Leaving me alone,
Another so-called Poet
Who will remain unknown
I picked up my pen, covered in dust
And had run out of ink,
To my disgust.
That pen of mine doesn't want to play,
We both may feel like writing on another day
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