DEADLINE (triolets in 3rd person)

he wondered why he always choked
when deadlines loomed, the words dried up
he cursed and stood and lit a smoke
he wondered why he always choked
when bills were due and he was broke
he sipped cold coffee from his cup
he wondered why he always choked
when deadlines loomed, the words dried up

he paced the hall and rubbed his pate
and studied names in his book rack
"all hooked," he thought, "the writer's fate"
he paced the hall and rubbed his pate
and poured a drink, for it was late
and he could have a heart attack
he paced the hall and rubbed his pate
and studied names in his book rack

what to do when words won't come
smoke and fret, and pour a glass
of whiskey, gin, or wine, or rum
what to do when words won't come
he'd smoke a doob if he had some
those editors could kiss his ass
what to do when words won't come
smoke and fret, and pour a glass