The Last Resort of the Scoundrel
by cricketjeff on March 15, 2012. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
I’ve never believed that not writing
Could conquer the foe that I’m fighting
But what can you pen
When you find once again
Your muse is not keen on igniting
She’ll throw you some half thought through teases
But nothing substantial that pleases
No sonnets worth reading
Just dross that needs kneading
The songs of a soul with the wheezes
So here is my final resort
A morsel of rhythmical sport
My muse can’t refuse
This trick I abuse
A limerickacious retort!
Author notes
Damn I hate it when this happens!
English