Uninspired (I guess it's a sonnet?)

Sitting there at his desk trying to write,

Should he write meaningfully? Should he stoop,

To writing some boring, pretentious poop?

Lines and lines, unoriginal, and trite.

Make something soon, or languish all night.

Thoughts going round and round in a loop,

It seems his inspiration has flown the coop,

Words just won’t come out, try as he might

When suddenly, within the mind’s eye

By serendipity, an idea appeared

He began to write and suddenly one by one

The words came jumping forth, nice and spry.

When he was finished he looked up and sneered,

This home assignment was finally done. 

-Troels Dalgård.