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 A poem a day keeps the cobwebs off my keyboard. |
| A place for the poetry that I will need to write now that I made a special book for it. |
‘Tis my last day and all is dark the clouds o’ershadow my mind. The task before me, to seize a spark a glimmer of creativity find. O, where are the words? O, where are the rhymes? My pen scratches out these meaningless lines! There’s nothing to write, all poetry is dead. The beauty of expression from me has fled. Blank pages mock me, my voice forever stilled. Panic flows through my veins blue rivers leave me chilled. I struggle against my captor, the mud of this intellectual swamp. It holds me down in inky depths, and drowns me in this prompt. Written for "PromptMaster !"  TASK PROMPT: Use hyperbole to write a poem about a minor inconvenience. Make it an epic struggle worthy of legend. |
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