129. A Terribly Bad Day

I bet I can write this in under a minute,

or perhaps shorter, or longer,

or even over and under,

through the thick and thin of time,

with eyes wide open,

unless I am blind.

And I may just be that.

The first stanza took a minute,

but how many words are truly in it?

Can I match this one with that?

Or should I put on my thinking hat?

I don’t know, nor do I know where to go,

but I am running out of time,

and fewer words are coming to mind...

Now, I am out of time.

This has been fun,

but clearly I should consider myself done

with such a terrible poem, 

though I could say I’ve written worse,

but this would be the first

that I’d actually timed myself to write;

and I do say that it may not make much sense,

and such a poem could not be right.

But what can I say?

My poetry may just be having 

a terribly bad day.