Writing: My Wrongs
Wot I have writ;
Improving my rhymes just a little bit.
Seeking solutions in a cup or mug;
Drinking draughts from a creativity jug
(As if that ever works!)
Teaching grammar to suck her eggs;
For the love of the comma people, here’s one who begs
To right his write of written wrongs
To strike the poetry gong and hear its bongs
Not the awful ‘clack’ of a hairline crack;
Nor the cracking voice of forgotten (and forgettable) songs.
I try and try to write with style;
I get it right about ‘once’ in a while
Getting it wrong far more often than not;
Overcooking the contents of my poetry pot;
With too much seasoning
And too little thought
I find my words just come to nought;
Fraught with hesitance,
Seeking the path of least reticence,
And missing the point of the whole
Exorcise them completely from the pages of rhyme;
Delete them discreetly as being a waste of our time;
And promise not to do the poety thing again.
Which premise would be a promise in vein.