and your head has run out of ideas?
Do you shut out the world and stay inside?
Take heed as you mop up those writers tears.
Squeeze out the sponge that you saturated
with the anguish, awe and angst from your fears.
Kid yourself that it's all over rated
but the cloud of gloom never disappears.
And a poet without inspiration
is like a saloon bar devoid of cheers.
Count your steps as you walk to the station
in the rain, to disguise those writers tears
Capability Red Jan 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment