When the Thesaurus Walked the Earth

 When the Thesaurus Walked the Earth

While reading the thesaurus today,*

Attention I wanted to pay

To a word I first spied, and to inspire myself I tried 

To write a poem without delay.

The word hit my eye, “mischievous,”

And jogged an idea quite devilish:

To extract from the jaws of the thesaurus, that wordy dinosaurus,

Something trouble-making, rascally, and roguish.

The open maw of the thesaurus 

Held synonyms for that miscreant, mischievous:

Boyish, playful, prankish, and puckish,

Sportive, naughty, and impish. 

The beast’s mouth then snapped shut,

My poem stuck in the proverbial rut.

I had words but couldn’t use them, if I did so I’d abuse them,

To the poet, the unkindest cut.  

To the reader, I ask your excusing

For my muse, in action, gone missing.

Let bygones be bygones, and woebegones be woebegones,

Today the thesaurus I’ll no longer be perusing.

*Yes, it’s come to this: I’ve run out of rhyme, misplaced the muse, looking for poetry in all the         

  wrong places, reduced to reading the thesaurus.