It comes in pieces it seems
four or so lines, at a time
building, without the right beams
weak in prose, and in rhyme
The juices of creativity
have all but left, mind and hand
and no help from any divinity
as all my words washed away
in the sand
Mar 23, 2025
Mar 23, 2025 at 8:35 AM UTC
It comes in pieces it seems
four or so lines, at a time
building, without the right beams
weak in prose, and in rhyme
The juices of creativity
have all but left, mind and hand
and no help from any divinity
as all my words washed away
in the sand
Really forcing it these days
I've had droughts of years before
with words, no longer at play
it appears, poetry with me
no more...
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