Poetry
is heaven sent
Not easy to write
something magnificent
It's pretty late
into the night
I close my eyes
to acquire sight
I want to write
my mind is still
I have to fight
the forlorn will
to end the night
and simply say
opportunity will knock
some other day
but I'm past the age
where opportunity knocks
I need to think
outside the box
and be myself
write something that rocks
or at least
something that doesn't ****
I need to break
this writer's block
I look at the ceiling
Look down at the clock
Stare into nothingness
as boredom mocks
the writer in me
Just my luck
This poem is about nothing
who gives a ****