I call myself a writer
But I can't seem to talk,
I shuffle all my words around
Stumbling my mental walk.
I “mow the carpet”, “vacuum the lawn”,
I e'en “blow hair my dry”,
The phrases swirl around my head,
I've “figger fish to bry”.
It's simply so embarrassing
The challenges I face,
When crafting words is my delight
Yet mine are out of place.
I think I have a mental imp
Who likes to “chick and poose”,
To see me stammering my way
Until I “flow a buse”.
So if I often don't make sense
I hope you won't be harsh,
The imp has finally turned my brain
Into a boggy marsh.
If you spend time around me
I may not seem too bright,
And certainly I'm not surprised
When someone says, “You write?!”
My brain has left me “dry and high”
And so I'll slip away,
And, hopefully, my mental imp
On someone else will prey.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.