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Emptiness
A thought that lingers longer than it should,
Then mingles with words to know just what could,
It’s then that lines appear if poets would
Permit the pen and paper to just meet.
If poet would put the old bum on seat,
And grasp the nib ‘til a sonnet’s complete.
O poet let your words on paper flow,
In ink let all your feelings come on show,
O poet, you know you cannot say no!
So write the words, perform this task at will,
Go on; pick up the pen let the words spill,
And soon the paper will begin to fill.
But it’s not so easy to write in verse
When the mind is naught but an empty purse.
Form: Lunatic Sonnet
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