A flat liner in verse!

As I tried to put

ink from my poetic pulse,

the impulse was to stop

as the beat was weak.

Tripping over the metre,

the rhyme designed

not recognised

in my iambic downfall

of every form possible,

I fell....

spiralling down the staircase

of verses not controlled,

but the attempt

did bring a wry smile

for my muse.

To be or not to be

was my question!