A Poet's Prayer
It seems my well of ink runs dry
With pen in hand, I want to cry
This war on words I seem to rage
When once flowed liquid words to page
Advance, advance I call to fore
To rival canon’s mighty roar
Yet, with my hand in solemn vow
I cannot find the words somehow
I pray for rescue from this pain
This prison held by tyrant’s reign
I know my muse, a shining knight
Will come to end this dreadful plight
And then, oh then will feelings flow
With every Synonym I know
With every Rhyme and Sonnet’s grace
To end this lonesome paper chase
Copyright © Mike Gentile | Year Posted 2023
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