Sometimes a poem Starts with a whimper And ends but no better Is the word simper? Unsaveable mess The author does see Carry me to bed This terrible poetry It may mean sleep is nigh Or perhaps I’m not limber Sets me back creatively As Kesha yells timber Perhaps pop songs will be all that remains To this wordsmith most sour After piling up pieces Into a garbage pile This humor will carry Energize to the next For it’s only me that will harry A verse sodden text