Sometimes I write poetry because I am inspired by something. It may be an event, an emotion, something I have seen or somewhere I have been. Sometimes I play around with words and phrases, just enjoying the musicality of the english language. There are plenty of poetry prompts to be found on line and sometimes I like to use these as they can be a bit more of a challenge as they may involve writing about something that I really don’t feel inspired by, but it is these kinds of things that I think help exerecise the poetry part of my brain and, I hope, develop my skill. Today’s inspiration comes from the “Word of the day” on one of the writing sites I visit. The word is burglarious.

 
Creeping through the darkness with burglarious intent
 The band of cunning rogues on their wicked way they went.
 Slinking through the village under cover of the night
 Anyone who saw them there would surely get a fright
  
 This motley crew had just one aim, they would not be deterred
 Tales of wealth and riches to this hamlet them had lured
 And finding that the stories they had heard might just be right 
 Decided that it would be worth their while to try one night
  
 Plans had all been made with care, the details checked so well
 Each knew what they had to do, they knew to never tell.
 Whispers of encouragement between them were exchanged
 If they could pull this off their lives forever would be changed
  
 So upon the place they crept, each one would play their part
 They clambered o’er the wall unseen – made a promising start. 
 But that was when it all went wrong for suddenly the light
 Detecting hidden motion hence shone piercing through the night
 
 “Who goes there?” Called a gruff voice from a window way up high
 “Tell me what you’re doing here, also tell me why?”
 Blinded by the sudden light erratically they ran
 They’d thought the place was empty, whoever was this man?
  
 The bunch were not the smartest, all sense now flew from their heads
 They scattered panicked ‘cross the lawn, trampled the flower beds.
 And then the scrape of metal bolts, the squeak of door flung wide
 The snarling, barking dogs flew out, their quarry they espied
  
 But as they fled, little they knew that worse was yet to come, 
 The man stood fuming at the door and cocked his old shot gun
 Terrified the gang all fled back o’er the wall they went
 Back home to rue the day they had burglarious intent.