I can not write a limerick
No chance of villanelle,
My triolet's in tatters
I'm in uninspired hell.
My sonneteering's scarpered
And my metre's gone as well,
I miss those days when I could pen
A perfect terzanelle.

I tried for rhyming couplets
But they all seemed quite cliché,
I fear my talent has run out
And I have had my day.
My sestina's on siesta
And my pantoum's gone away,
My ballade has abandoned me
My mind's in disarray.

The muse is un-amused it seems
And my gosh don't I know it,
I had my chance to be a bard
Why did I have to blow it?
I'm on the ropes, the towels out
I've no choice but to throw it,
I'll take my bow, for now I'm just
Another has-been poet.