A Poem on Poems

I was told to put up a poem,

Our souls, she said, we should show 'em,

“To Science!” I said,

And into my head,

Popped thoughts of xylem and phloem.

Yet, a poem 'bout science is boring,

And this poem-thing I am deploring,

So my poem will

Explain how I feel,

And use lim'rick, to keep you from snoring.

I did try to write it last week,

But at TV I did take a peek,

And my poem did not

Get written a lot,

I'll admit, my chances seemed bleak.

Then I did try to write it last night,

But The Simpsons sure put up a fight,

And all that I did

Though my mother forbid,

Was sit around (to my delight).

Though I surely do prefer this fate,

To the thought of making this great,

So bear with me here,

As I won't adhere,

To the style that makes me irate.

She told me to show off my soul.

I think I accomplished that goal.

For my soul is full of

All of the above.

Though this wasn't too bad, on the whole.