NaPM April 23 2014

[ellajam]

NaPM

Incapable of cogent thought,
why think I'd write a decent sonnet?
It's inspiration that I sought,
each morning keen to jump upon it
but even with a prompt I love
within four lines I start to flail.
I shuffle rhymes unworthy of
my time and yours, continually fail.
Oh, bitter April, you have wrought
a mind so numb it's downright choking,
now wasting skills that I've been taught
my brain's so burnt I smell it smoking.
So sub-par poets please beware
of sub-par poems I'm posting here.

It smells like bacon, yummy.

Today, yes, but by tomorrow it may go a bit rancid.