“Write a poem about a grumpy copywriter called Matt who works at a verbal branding agency called Reed Words”

At Reed Words in a London flat,  
Labors our copywriter, grumpy Matt—  
His hair is tousled, his frown profound,  
He scowls as syllables spin around.

He wrangles verbs with a weary pen,  
A mug of coffee—gone cold again.  
Briefs fly in with impossible asks:  
"Make us clever, punchy, brisk!"  
“Not another tagline slog,”  
Matt mutters, lost in the agency fog.

Whiteboard scribbles, Post-its in stacks,  
Clients craving the wit he lacks  
(Or so he claims, though secretly proud  
Of headlines that stand out in a crowd).

“An ‘elevated brand voice’? Oh, please,”  
He gripes, deleting a lazy cliché,  
Oblivious clients, meetings in threes—  
Still, no typos shall pass his way.

Yet, beneath his furrowed, ink-smudged brow,  
Hides a craftsman’s spark—he must allow  
That naming startups, rounding a phrase,  
Can spark a smile amid the haze.

So here’s to Matt—though he grumps and sighs,  
His Reed Words wit, sharp and wise,  
Turns brands from bland to sly and bold—  
A copy alchemist with a heart of gold.

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