It feels like this brain’s been interred,
for I can’t seem to get inspired.
My genius has expired, it’s tired.
Oops, did Daffy just gird his bird?
Aargh, this confounded absurd word.
I’m just too stubborn to admit,
I should’ve ducked, I should’ve quit.
This head up here is Grade…A…Prime.
I never have grief with a rhyme.
It’s done, never shook, not one bit.
One week I do an alliteration Décima. Now this week, this catastrophe. Next week I’ll write one on Sunday before everyone else writes the good ones. I like to be original. Even if it is originally bad. (Maybe I’ll write the Décima first, then pick the challenge word. Yeah, that”s the ticket.)
My entry for this week’s Décima Poetry Challenge No. 14 BIRD. (A New Challenge here on ronovanwrites.com)
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