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wrote this; I added a little spit 'n polish


when words tumble jumble out
of our body's orifices,
scored in electrons, on paper,
surprise and befuddlement, our thoughts,
both the source and the answer,
a belling that resonates in more than
the Pyrex container of our writing minds,
so easy this spilling,
bought so hard in the learning,
paid so hard in the earning,
but the journey's price,
the resultant device,

*worth the journey's cost
my deepest appreciation
I thought I wanted to write a poem
mistakingly I guess I'm not .
Thought I could create something
masterful
I guess that idea is shot
Like false labor pains
I  thought it was going to come
But the pains just faded away
Now I know it's naught
My muse used to dance and sing
After midnight by the clock
Lately it's been going to bed
around eight thirty or nine o'clock
So I'm left out by myself
trying to do my best
But my best is pathetic
it simply can't pass the test
So now I say goodnight my friends
As I leave you with this mess
 Apr 2016 Margaret Ann Waddicor
r
Night,
I love you
like a bride
loving her body,
the madman
the desert,
like the horse
loves its shadow,
the sad the lighthearted,
I love you like
a wanderer his ballad,
a poet his dark room,
like the moon.
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