Crushed
I tug my vibrant summertime skirt
but it unravels from a chair ;
Reaching dutifully for muse's pen
this mind now becomes a haze.
I seek to light an imaginative flame
still, phrases yield not to me,
and with despair in the glaze of sunglow
imagination's furnace would not spark
on crushed pages seemingly obscure--
Beneath verses smashed by juggled letters
my fresh ink muddying through heated hours
and papers remain blank with dead-end rhymes.
16th June 2020
Crushed Contest by Anthony Biaanco
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
