A Waste Of Time

Oh! How is it that I forget what I wanted to write about?

It was just so in the back of my mind,

Or, rather almost on the nib of my pen,

And then I don’t know where it slipped?

No, it wasn’t about Romance,

Which is now so commonplace?

Nor about Tragedy,

Which has already lost its pathos?

Neither of Catharsis,

Which lately has become so unbearable?

Nor of Childhood,

Nor of Death,

Neither Joy,

Nor of Sorrow,

It was surely of something else,

Something entirely new and sensational,

Something like you’d never heard before,

Or laid your eyes upon to read,

I bet it would have blown your mind,

Rattled your brains,

And shook your heart,

What, you don’t believe me?

Of all the people, ‘you’,

You don’t believe an honest poet?

You think I am faking?

You doubt my talent?

Gosh! Why am I wasting my time out here?