Hannah Wooldridge Poet Ballad

Mind's Lacuna

Open space within an embrace
My trials are almost done
Executioner tales I failed
While the rest I don't recall
 
Poetry became a backbone
Each time my eye struck twelve
A masterpiece I strive for
But humbly feel I've failed
 
A pen stroke feeds into my shadow
As memory's are still returned
From a cracked skull to my knife's old home
My fingers and wrist still motion
Moving slowly in a off form of cursive
 
Trying again and again into ageless times
To compose a mockery of rhymes
Simply stating what my mind tells me I've beheld
A memoir of a death-less writer
 
While I write I forget
To read or hear
What my hands have written
Or my heart has feared
 
Tis a trial of errors
I can hardly come to believe
That while victory instilled fear
My poetry brought motion
Gave a sense to my background
Something to which, I had no notion
 
Short but sweet I try to achieve
But my execution is always due
As I cannot fail to meet
The standards I feel true
 
I pushed so high to exceed
But can't help to decide
Enough's enough, my mind says
Because within the gap of my head
A small serenity raised true
 
As I put pen to paper
My eyesight tracked down
To begin to read as I write
It beckoned a small shout
 
My poetry I can’t read
But only write 
As my head cannot conceive
What mysteries are contained within
The gap that has completed my mind

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