A Limerick About Writing
She wanted to write but try as she might...
There once was a woman who wanted to write and make it worth reading for all
She tried and she tried, but try as she might her writing wound up in a ball.
She used fancy words and phrases that sang from the depths of her heart so sincere
But no matter how hard herself she applied the results would not bend an ear.
From morning till night she continued to write with an edge of her own she applied
Yet when she was finished it seemed so diminished she threw up her hands and she cried.
No pentameter near for others to hear her writing pleased only herself
She could stop now she would often vow and leave all her books on her shelf.
She needed to research the words that would work and allow her to be a great star
But she couldn’t find out where to start this whole bout and seemed watching it all from afar.
It was time to get down and do all the work that would make this an easier task
And put up her feet and keep writing neat even though she had no one to ask.
The lights she would dim and keep all from within so her thoughts she could hear loud and clear
As she read through the details of others who told tales of how they could write without fear.
This work seemed to renew her and surged right on through her with warnings she knew she should heed
But the more she enjoyed them the more she employed them and the more she regained all her speed.
The words would come flowing with thoughts all a knowing of what she had wanted to say
The paper was filling with words that were willing to show how to write all the way.
Her pen flew on brightly and she wrote on nightly as ever a writer could do
She performed with such urgency she felt filled with insurgency and wrote till the morning came through.
When she saw what she’d done and it wasn’t a pun she filled with fruition its true
So if ever you see her or read her or greet her be sure to tell her it’s you.
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