Promptly poetry entries |
I'm writing a silly poem; There's no rhyme or reason. No form, nor no season - Like parting hair with a comb. My mind will often roam Do not count this as treason; In this nonsensical region - What say they? When in Rome... Yes, my mind does wander, And my muse is quiet; I will occasionally flounder, And the words then run riot. If by then, my muse, I've not found her, I will then blame the climate. prompt ▶︎ ![]() |