I Dipped the Pen In Barren Well

I writ a poem of broken lines in muddled thoughts where nothing rhymes considered throwing in some chimes from reminiscent olden times reached into the “poignant” pail dug out the sadness of “sublimes”. I dipped the pen in barren well denied of stories it could tell pictured how the empires fell beneath the hate of brimstone’s smell wondered how I came to dwell in poetry’s rekindled hell. I clawed the crimson charcoal crust bore the pain of writing’s thrust became the fire of its lust engulfed in flame the pages trust then sprinkled it with living’s dust. John G. Lawless ©7/4/2021