My poetic checks are bouncing!
There are no funds in the bank
I cannot borrow from anyone
To refill my empty tank.

So I went to the only place
I know will loan me muse
First National Bank of Inspiration
Is the lender that I choose

I drive up to the window
And talk into the speaker
The teller looks at my poems,
Which rhymes are getting weaker

I tell her that I've lost it
I've spent my last notion
I cannot write of mountains
Of deserts, woods or ocean!

She asked me ‘bout the last time
I deposited any thought to
Stretching my reflections
As any poet ought to

I confess that I still read,
Perusing every written word
To deposit into my account
Each idea, sensible or absurd

I feel I've overdrawn my muse
Used the stockpile of imagination
And now I'm bouncing poetry
For lack of inspiration

So all I ask Miss Teller,
Is a loan or two from this bank
I'd like to be prolific again
And fill this awful blank.

The teller turns to her boss
Whispering words quite low
Then answers through the speaker
That a debt I certainly owe

You're moderating a forum
of perfect passionate poetry
each poem contains some thoughtful
inspiration you can get for free

We recommend you read each verse
Accrue mental stimulation
For you have overdrawn your account
At First National Bank of Inspiration