I Need Blinders
I look around and I cannot help but see
Fodder and seeds for poems in every corner
Along the ceiling, in a cobsweb
How can you write that many some ask?
How can I not? I ask the bag of cereal that is reaching for its coffee
The scotch tape laughs; making fun of me always
Super heroes in capes grin at me from their posters
They want to be diabolical, but they got ruined in their youth
A tiny glow worm scratches his back on my back
Ideas are lining up at attention; my muse is in charge
She twirls her maestro baton and they fall down laughing
I need blinders so I can stop writing.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2021
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