If I had but one, albeit unnatural, irresistible, awesome desire,
It would be to keep unquenched this overwhelming, holy fire.
Yet for want of sound sleep almost eleven hours forsaken
–Not to mention scrambled eggs and a rasher of frying bacon,
Buttered toast, strawberry jam, some berries,one juicy melon–
I would not think of chilling, for writing poems is awfully thrilling.
So using both rhyme and rhythm, my spirit stays quite willing
To pen my slightly didactical, moreover pretty intractable, song
Eschewing those conjunctions and prepositions overused,
All the same, I must enthuse, I’ve found neither patron nor muse.

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