Tabula Rasa
I got my pen and paper after a quizzical ride
I tried to squeeze my mind and set some work aside
But nothing, nothing really effuses
Not a single word fluidly oozes
Weary as I slept not in yesternight
Rummaging o'er jungles of paper stretched so tight
Yet my passions surge and desires rise
To yield the crops of thought before sunrise
And greet the day of parched land dry
Awful! Not a single word chimes a try
Now the quill and ink are dead, but the poet seems alive
In a last ditch of efforts, fecundity of thought tries to revive
So that once again, immortal words ultimately say
The most beautiful thoughts from within my heart lay.
Copyright © Francisco Renion Jr. | Year Posted 2010
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