Only I, Have the Key
I open and close my stiff cold hands,
and look down at what my pen has spilled;
my hands ache from decades of writing,
my many pages are totally filled.
Electric jolts stab at my fingers,
and my writing is dead and tingling;
I put on my ugly, clumsy splints,
and send my words to go a mingling.
And mingling, mingling far and far,
soon, I hear the snakes come creeping;
to tear apart- destroy my words,
the cobra asp came while I was sleeping.
Then, came the unblinking viper asp,
all the night my poetry they devoured;
each word that my pen had let fall,
and in the morning they left- a coward.
Perhaps the asp thinks this is power,
that they are cunning and will break me;
that I will fall in beautiful broken pieces,
but I have courage and only I, have the key.
_______________________
April 29, 2018
Poetry/Quatrain/Only I, Have The Key
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1018-003-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Asp
sponsor, Anthony Slausen
Fourth Place
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