Poetry On Strike
Feeling my creativeness has lost sight,
my thought process having some sort of blight,
up ahead a mirage,
this desert must discard,
crawling to water hole with all my might,
Once again my poet mind has gone dry,
thinking out loud I let out a weary sigh,
my mouth in a pout,
my mind in a drought,
feeling like poetry once again is on strike.
10-27-16
Copyright © Cheryl Hoffman | Year Posted 2016
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