Slumped on a careworn chesterfield chair, collapsed like a let-up longevous lung
Demoralized and defeated, feeling not so young
Whose only defibrillator is deep desperation to write a poem
Yet his endeavour does not meet his expectation’s gem.
Fear not for James, this jinxed man
For he has now thought of a plan
A plan that includes searching on Google cheekily
One that he hopes will paint his mono mind colourfully.
On Google, as elevated as a hot air balloon, he opened a web page
One that contained a list of links of poem topics that looked all but beige
Not feeling a rover, our man choses the first option, the Haiku style
So, he clicks the link to see the poem genre list with a smile.
The first genre on the list was love
Oh, luscious, love, the writing of a dove
The pen, pencil, quill or keyboard but soft
And the feeling in the mind just waft
However, our protagonist would appose
He thought the topic love was horribly platitude, and he is right, I suppose.
Not to James’s shock, the next overused genre on the list was roses
Roses, the ravishing red flower, a delight for noses
It’s a thorny delight for the erudite eyes
Now, this next part is to no ones’ surprise
James had read one too many poems on the topic
So, he decided to browse on the genre list to find something more exotic.
Now getting slightly desperate, James scrolled far down to see a new genre list
However, he scrolled for too long and the queer results made him throw up his fist
From grey great Grannie’s grimy golden tooth to shiny silver scone sculpture view
All of it looked like it crawled on the genre list out of Google page two
I think we all know James by now, and for him this list certainly wouldn’t do!
He decided to take one last foray before he would surrender
For he realised that looking for a topic was a blunder
So, he just bundled his forlorn emotions up
Put them delicately in a poetic cup
And whoosh! Like magic he found his muse
Which you are now reading as a poetic ruse.