I sat alone
And tried to think,
Of words so grand,
To put in ink.
The words came slow,
And uninspired.
No cutesy rhymes,
No expressed desire.
No lover’s song,
No wrong to right.,
No erotic rhyme,
To fill the night.
Inspiration,
I could not find,
To plant a seed,
Inside my mind.
- Author: lasergraph ( Offline)
- Published: August 28th, 2017 16:41
- Comment from author about the poem: A look at those times confronted with a blank page.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Comments4
but tet it grew into a blooming flower
I already see the sprout of your seed. A nice writing.
At times it seems my muse is asleep. I just keep hounding her until she gives me something to shut me up. I can appreciate your poem, laser!
I guess we've all been there - well expressed.
Thanks to all. I have been there more than I like but something usually breaks that log jam and all flows again.
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