I tried to write a poem today
But my brain had gone quite numb
I jotted down some random thoughts
But the words just wouldn’t come
It’s hard to be an aspiring poet
You may laugh and mock
Some might say its just lack of talent
But I call it writer’s block
So I sharpened my pencil and scratched my head
To help with my creation
And I went and made a cup of tea
Hoping for divine inspiration
Well The tea went cold and I sat and dreamed
As I thought a little longer
The tea didn’t really help at all
So I searched for something a little stronger
I needed some help for the perfect poem
Some help to cross that bridge
So an ancient bottle of red I found
Lurking in the back of the fridge
I couldn’t find a glass so I used a cup
And as I began to pour
My mood was lifting gradually
So I poured myself one more
I started feeling rather good
As I scribbled down a line
The poetic juices were flowing now
As I helped myself to more wine
Well The more I drank the better I got
I was feeling inspired and arty
An epic poem was starting to form
As I enjoyed my one man party
I felt a match for Tennyson
Kipling, Wordsworth and keats
My poem would go viral on the internet
And glue them in their seats
I know it may sound rather vain
These ideas above my station
But surely a man can have his dreams
And a little appreciation
But as I tipped the bottle back
The page became slightly blurred
And the words that were forming in my muddled head
Were sounding a little bit slurred

The wine was all gone as was my talent
My focus began to taper
And when I woke up in the early hours
My head was on blank piece of paper.