Out of Gas

I’m staring at my notebook; The page is lined but blank. I’m like the driver with no map Or gas within the tank. I’ve got the engine started But I have no place to go, So I’m sitting here in neutral With my spirits sinking low. It doesn’t happen often That my mind will not engage, Yet my musings somehow managed To get words upon the page. It’s almost time for typing, For what finally seems clear Is that sometimes simply idling Is enough to get in gear.

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Terry Flood

Date: 10/12/2023 3:59:00 PM

Know the feeling well, Ilene. I like the way your last few lines prove their own point. When I’m in that boat (er… car) I try just writing gibberish. Sometimes I get a line to work with and sometimes I get a fully fledged poem… and sometimes I get gibberish. Your approach was far more refined than mine. Like it lots!

Maurice Rigoler

Date: 10/9/2023 8:20:00 PM

That last stanza says it all, Ilene! And it works for me when my poetry "engine" prefers to idle though my mind is on the gas peddle! Enjoyed./ Maurice

Jerry Brotherton

Date: 10/9/2023 5:00:00 PM

Even on idle Ilene, you still create a great poem.

Anne-Lise Andresen

Date: 10/9/2023 7:08:00 AM

- ... let the "car" rest a bit, Ilene ... fill up your mind ... lovely written :) - hugs

Jan Allison

Date: 10/8/2023 9:58:00 PM

You are a gas Ilene lol I can relate big time my pen has run out of ink but am sure a gassy poem will explode from my pen when my motor gets running again , wonderful metaphors lol hugs jan xx