They’re mine, yet they refuse to flow.
I see my cursor stopping here.
It’s writer’s block; I’m filled with woe.
My writer friends must think it strange,
My variable word-count range:
From nil to chiliads per day
Based on how the seasons change.
I give my drowsy head a shake
And make some tea to stay awake.
I’ve just got to buckle down
I see my cursor stopping here.
It’s writer’s block; I’m filled with woe.
My writer friends must think it strange,
My variable word-count range:
From nil to chiliads per day
Based on how the seasons change.
I give my drowsy head a shake
And make some tea to stay awake.
I’ve just got to buckle down
although
I’m lazy, and a flake.
My bed is warm, my blankets deep,
But I have promises to keep,
Six thousand words before I sleep,
Six thousand words before I sleep.
My bed is warm, my blankets deep,
But I have promises to keep,
Six thousand words before I sleep,
Six thousand words before I sleep.
This poem is of course based off of Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”. Though I didn’t keep the chain rhyme of AABA-BBCB-CCDC-DDDD, I tried to allude to the original in each stanza. :)
ReplyDeleteI like it. 😀
ReplyDeleteI have always enjoyed your ability to write in such charming rhyme. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you!
Delete