The Fallow Fields
When rhymes forsake me, my pen's then bled dry;and eloquent lines rich in metaphor
die before the inkwell's used up, here and by:
for the once-teeming storehouse reservoirs
of song flee my page, though write in hope I try!
“How to awaken the dead muse again?”
I plead. “O what answer, what remedy
are main: the keys to my mind's creative drain!?”
So, in distress, to God I make my plea.
I let the tired fields of my mind lie fallow:
and as time passed, my pen regains its powers;
so new strains sing unwan and unsallow,
and antique odes on clouds and daffodil flowers
may refresh this infant, newborn sonnet,
with life from this present time, and planet.
Sonnet by Ngoc Nguyen
Read 140 times
Written on 2022-10-16 at 20:48
Tags Fallow Fields Muse
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