Oh muse grant me strength,
Ejaculated, the bard exasperated.
For desperate he was,
Inspiration he seeked,
And the king had proclaimed,
A wedding.
A wedding proclaimed,
Was a bard's proclaim ,
To his glory and fame.
He marched, temper in vain,
Outside into the sun,
A bright and glorious day.
When strike it did,
The inspiration he seeked.
The trials now through,
Off to write he ran.
Into the shack,
His home he called.
Yet trippd on the hearth,
And fell into the fire.
The poem unwritten,
Now lost to the world.
And so burned the bard,
Seeking inspiration and in haste,
Of desperation invited,
Death upon his door.
For poems are not to be rushed,
And so what of the one you read,
Asketh you.
Well this is the wandering musing,
Of a bard, seeking no inspiration.
