I have forgotten to write it down,
That Idea I had for this poem
How careless of me! How irresponsible,
To have forgotten this great Idea
Which once comforted and soothed
My aching mind.
Darn it all, if I could just recall
A glimmer, a trifle, perhaps a color…
But no, they all elude me.
I have no clues, no leads to follow-
Nothing to call my own on the bare plain of this wretched imagination.
For shame; it was such a lovely idea too,
All crisp and new, just breathing for the
First time.
Now it shall never be seen, read, heard,
For it has been lost to the barren
Confines of my mind, those dark woods
From which no Ideas return.
What a pity, for the tender, lovable
Idea to have such a sorrowful fate!
And what of I, it’s great Creator,
What shall become of me now?
For this poem is due in ten minutes
And I am without an idea.