My Writing Is Lethargic

I was feeling flippant again

 

My writing is lethargic,

Expression, somewhat tired.

Each word and phrase is overcooked,

Once refreshing �" now expired.

 

For words are not invented

So quickly as you think.

And phrases are persistent,

They linger and they stink.

 

Orwell tried to warn us,

Perchance, if you have read,

That words which are existent,

Define what’s in your head.

 

We have oft tried to escape it,

Saying one thing’s like another,

Poetry, they call this stuff,

You wonder why they bother.

 

For pretty as the notions are,

When all is said and done,

It won’t be long till that’s used up

And we’re back at square one.

 

*The author is fully aware of the irony in stuffing his final stanza with worn out expression and hackneyed sayings.