
Here I sit before computer screen with widening hips,
My brain transferring thoughts through active finger tips.
While Keats mused about Love, Ambition, and Poesy,
My Muses would be Blogs, Facebook, and Plain Lazy.
Here I sit, a sad misfit, with not a whit of...well, wit.
Poesy has sailed, Love has failed, and Ambition has bailed.
My Facebook friends make no amends...I think I've got the bends.
They wonder why, someone like I should search the sky for reasons 'WHY?'
But then, again, every now and then, I think...
Can I really be indolent if I'm writing this stupid poem?
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