A Harried Writer 

I haven’t left the couch today,

My butts asleep to my dismay.

Writing words that rhyme you see,

Seems to be my destiny.

Words, oh words, you pesky beasts,

I’m not impressed, not in the least.

Floating about inside my head,

Like snapping jaws that must be fed.

Pen to paper I search for focus,

Can’t I just say, “Hocus-Pocus?” 

Write a line and then erase,

It’s easier just to cut and paste.

A word, a line, and then a stanza,

Gosh oh gee, it’s a bonanza.

Put a period at the end,

I think I’ve gone around the bend. 

Ken Ferguson