If ever I was at a loss for words
Yet thought that words might be what should be used,
And sought to frame a song like the blackbird
Who finds in sun and rain alike his muse
But failed, and left instead an empty page
Like beer unbrewed or like a pipe unsmoked,
Unkindly you may say just like the sage
Who smilingly refused to tell his joke,
If I should languish vacant on my couch
As poets of the past have oft described
Exhausted and unable now to vouch
For thoughts or feelings I might hold inside,
A breath of air, a walk, a rustling leaf
Would vanquish listlessness, the poet's thief.
YOU ARE READING
mayhem !
De TodoRomance in France on the first of May, a challenge a day in shorts and flash fiction . It's all about what makes you write, what's fun about it, where ideas come from and take you . Follow the prompts and have a go. I was really surprised at what I...
