A poem read in the style of Ted Hughes as portrayed by Daniel Craig in the film* Sylvia.

Stop standing in the middle of rooms, Sylvia,
it’s ridiculous.

Stop staring wistfully out of windows, Sylvia,
you’re wasting your life.

Stop putting your hair down like that, Sylvia,
you look more unhinged every day.

Stop mumbling about bees, Sylvia,
it’s not healthy.

Stop ripping up bits of paper, Sylvia,
you’re making it messy.

Stop talking to that old man, Sylvia,
he doesn’t look right.

Stop burning all the clothes and books, Sylvia,
it’s not good.

Stop baking all those cakes, Sylvia,
they’re strange.

Stop being really still and staring, Sylvia,
it’s scaring the kids.

Stop waiting up for me, Sylvia,
you need to sleep.

It's silly all the thought that goes into writing poetry.
The poems that count are the ones which require no thought at all.
when you asked me to write you a poem, gave me a deadline
I knew I would fail.  Had failed.
Now.
The words on this paper will not bring you back
they won't wage wars in the name of God or love
won't rise up off the paper when all that's needed is an embrace.
These words are no more than lead on paper
strained attempts at funneling thoughts
distilled down to something somewhat legible
no more tangible then words spoken aloud.
dust on the wind so to speak,
fully capable of bringing tear to eye despite their inanimate position.
I need a drink, the burn of fire water to cleanse my soul
Poor me another, cause I can still see  the floor

I believe in the language
of everyday, and words
unencumbered by misinterpretation.

It's an added perk
that
*******
means as much
as it sounds.