a treatise on woeful ineptitude. From "Five Score More Tails From Offshore..." (unpublished)
I think, seven pencils, if memory served.
Ten dozen pen cousins subsequently interred.
A case of legal pads, both sides, it's absurd.
At base programs, I'm so bad, I really need to learn word!
I'd never written but, I do speak in rhyme.
Now, I'm this smitten, word eking enzyme.
So easily inspired to committing this crime
and seasonally retired, so I can spend lots of time.
Sometimes, a hooter, at odd hours comes through,
And I'll not use computer at quarter past two.
I confess impish resolve and brood 'til I'm blue.
Unless this fish evolves, crude, tried and true tools will do.