ForumGarden

In Desperation

I chased a rhyme around the room

I could not seem to catch it

A word might come to lift my gloom

Then none would come to match it

On tip of my protruding tongue

A phrase would briefly teeter

Then totter to the trash unsung

For lack of proper meter

I knit my brow and scratched my head

But that just made things worse

All squinty eyed and bleeding head

I still could write no verse

So I would ask that one of you

If lady, gent or scholar

Would part with just a line or two

I’d pay you half a dollar!

A Fair Offer

A hundred words in basic rhyme

Without much sense or reason

Is scarcely going to ring my chime

Regardless of the season

I know it's cold and wet outside

I have to find the rent

But even so I'd wish I'd died

At two words for a cent

Your rate's too low for even me

To summon up the muse

It's not enough to buy more tea

I'll just dilute my brews

But if you double up your rate

I'll summon up my powers

I'll get up early, stay up late

And write like this for hours!

Dear Spot;

DEAL ! :wah:

SnoozeControl wrote: You two are just too clever for words. :-4

More please.
I agree - absolutely brilliant! You're both in the wrong jobs.

Well.... I'll quit if he will :yh_rotfl

With starcrossed eye and squinting muse

Poor 4rum stripped for action

To sell his soul and pawn his shoes

For rhyming satisfaction

Along came Spot from valleys green

His bardic chimes unrung

Quoth he: You bring more bling, I'll sing

If not your song's unsung

My kingdom for a dadgummed verse

Cried 4rum - really riled

A lady heard his horrid curse

Her laugh was eldrich, wild

I give you rhyme and rhythm too

With wicked wit and quick

But henceforth leave high poesie

Your thing is limerick

There once was a fellow called 4rum

Liked the ladies and tried hard to scorum

They found most exciting

His limerick writing

And very soon got to adorum

So with the gift by lady left

4rums fate comes altered

Her witted pen she weild so deft

She save his musings faltered

And so that Spot be not forgot

To him we too bow grateful

His aid was not so cheaply bought

But still by no means hateful

The fates have truely smiled a smile

'Pon 4rum's furrowed brow

And in this place he'll rest a while

If found friends will allow