Why I Don't Write Poetry (An Exercise in Nonsense) - Improv #3

I was sitting here deciding what I might write,

when suddenly, out of nowhere, I had a dreadful fright.

There crept into my mind some unwelcome doubt -

Have I already run out of things to talk about?

I've not been at this long, much less than most,

I mean, isn't this just like my 19th post?

It's my 20th, really? Well, fancy that,

have ten weeks really gone by like that?

The time just flew by, I must be getting old,

but as the alternative's being dead, I guess that means I'm sold

on the whole aging business, but then I've got no choice

...why's the web saying that choice rhymes with DuBois?

That's a Western Pennsylvania thing, I'm in New Jersey

which rhymes with... well, nothing, but I suppose that's a mercy.

Just another Thursday, waiting for the time to be six,

and then home to West Milford, which is only kinda the sticks.

But that's not me complaining, just observing the facts,

...what was this post about? Better retrace my tracks.

Oh right, what to write about, that was the point,

but now it seems this whole post's just a bit out of joint.

As you can plainly see, I've only been rambling

and my metre, like the subject, is just sort of ambling.

But writing poetry's not my game, I'd rather be poked with needles,

and metres are for Rita's in songs sung by The Beatles.

Now how did they rhyme those?  They don't sound at all alike.

But then, when you're The Beatles, I guess you do as you like.

Anyway, you know those images, the ones with the vases?

I keep squinting at this post and looking for faces.

There might be a couple, but they're a bit of a stretch,

and I'm just stalling while I look for the sketch

that I did for this post, it was a couple of cats,

and I even drew a couple in adorable hats.

But my computer, it is saying that they just don't exist.

If any techies might be reading could you maybe assist?

Ah well, I guess I'll just have to consider them lost,

and my intended subject for this post out the window, is tossed.
I'm not sure about the grammar of that last... what's it again?
Couplet - Wikipedia, you're truly my friend.
And now I think we're finally reaching the end,
it's been a couple hours since the first lines were penned.
But one thing I should tell you, 'fore I shut my trap.
The metre's a little easier when read as a rap.
And so in closing, with the last line of many,
the pug's just there to be cute (as good a reason as any).

And there you have it!  Another post done, though not the one I intended (there really was a drawing of some cats I meant to share).  Still, I hope you enjoyed this, odd as it may be.