Poetic License

My poetic license has expired
They won’t let me renew
It seems my rhythms can be off
My rhymes are sloppy too

I don’t use punctuation marks
My spelling is so poor
My stories don’t make any sense
Need I say any more?

My rhyming can be hit or miss
My poems are quite a mess
I am the only fan I have
To that I must confess

I guess that I have gone too far
My poems have run amok
I’ve had to bend the rules too much
When I have gotten stuck

Yet here I spend each day and night
Just wasting all my time
I’m wracking my poor feeble brain
To make another rhyme

If I don’t get my license back
I’ll be left in the dark
I might as well sit on a bench
Feed pigeons in the park

I’ll wander all the streets alone
With rhythms in my head
I’ll mumble rhymes all by myself
I might as well be dead

I’ll have to come up with a plan
To get my license back
Maybe if I pay them off
They might cut me some slack

The last time that I tried that plan
It didn’t end up well
They told me I’d be banned for life
That’s my idea of hell

Now I will have to write Free Verse
Where everything’s okay
No need to follow any rules
You just go your own way

Forget those rhymes I thought about
And rhythm won’t apply
Just blab whatever comes to mind
It makes me want to cry

But
I’m a poet
and I WILL survive
...maybe