This is a poem inspired the ‘Witches Chant’ from Shakespeare’s Macbeth.
Thrice try to start the piece.
Thrice and once, the words escape.
Do try, the words together scrape.
To the dictionary fly
Efforts lead to all but a sigh
Have no fear, just move on
To some other tactic;
Find phrases that rhyme
And keep a certain time.
Words, oh words what is your ploy?
You have taken with you all the joy.
Attempt to make it round,
Before slamming it to the ground.
Frustration will soon creep in,
Try to keep it out o’ the bin.
A masterpiece it may not be,
But a work of some sort they will see.
Put the pen to the paper,
Watch as the blank space tapers.
Words, oh words what is your ploy?
You have taken with you all the joy.
Punctuate, and make some marks.
Though it may sound better in the dark,
Where no one can see the cringe,
Yet they themselves will twinge.
It will all be over soon,
Just keep working on ‘till noon.
With an effort as yet not seen,
A hidden meaning to glean,
But only among the crazy ones.
Among words that were jumbled,
Far from the point they tumbled,
Never making a profound image,
Never being a legend around the village.
Words, oh words what is your ploy?
You have taken with you all the joy.
By following the steps that have been stated,
Then a bad poet will be created.
I am smiling!
I’m glad:)
I am smiling!
I’m glad:)
Starting is always the hard part. One hundred attempts might do it. x
Starting is always the hard part. One hundred attempts might do it. x
Sabiscuit, I couldn’t agree more:)
Sabiscuit, I couldn’t agree more:)