Blocked
But that this impotent pen clasped within my lame fingersCould rise to the challenge once more.
Sharpening my mind, drawing my metaphors
Ready for the battle of wits.
But that my ideas could flow, cascading
As clear water from its source instead of
As of late, cold porridge oozing through a mangle
But that my humble words would meet others
as in some cosmic meeting of minds
To form lines. Onwards, ever onwards,
stretching their puny limbs towards heaven
In some celestial explosion to form into sublime stanzas
of note, of worthy and noble blood,
To withstand the tests of time.
Such that in one thousand years
Others may look upon these words and say
'By' eck that girl could pen a line'
Poetry by blondeoverblue
Read 621 times
Written on 2005-07-26 at 01:20
Tags Expectation
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